Winds of Change
by 21citrouilles
Summary: Healing can be possible, if certain events can trigger persons to have the courage to change their circumstances, and these persons can evolve without loosing their own essence. A Sansan AU tale which unfolds in three parts; each part with a new starting point, esploring different possibilities and events with a continuous thread going through them.
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER I**

**Sandor**

Wrenched suddenly from dark dream, I startle awake with the strangest sensation; a strong sense that something important is going to happen. Today.

It is true that I've not been myself lately; but in darker moods I'm not one to suddenly develop _fanciful thinking._ I can't figure out from where it has come from. Nothing unusual has happened on the previous days. And still, that damned feeling still has stuck to me all day long like a second skin, even if today is spending itself in the habitual manner. Because of my shield duties to the king, I have followed him everywhere he had gone to, from excruciatingly long court cases, petitions, witnessed the punishments that he has doled frequently; listening to his whining and unreasonable demands.

_That is nothing new._ Seven Hells, am I tired of this boy!

After supper, I make a detour as usual to the godswood, hoping to spy on a familiar presence there – but not sign of the little bird. That increases my uneasiness. Lately, I've not seen her there as often as I did before. I decide then to leave the Keep for the city for gambling and drinking. It is my night off; the other kingsguards have the shield duty tonight.

I meet the regular companions and while I usually enjoy gambling, I go at it tonight in an indifferent way, really not caring about the stakes or outcome; the other players irritate me and I bark at them regularly. I look around me and see nothing there that can distract me and lift off that deep sense of weariness that I feel. I think of leaving and maybe visit the whorehouse, but that doesn't spark an interest either. What would be the use of going? This also doesn't please me much anymore; being partly relieved of desires for a moment only for them to return stronger than ever with nothing to really satisfy them will only make me feel more frustrated. I feel like getting drunk, really blinding drunk tonight, but the foreboding that still shadows me keeps me from doing it, and I'm left with nothing to numb me.

Deep down,I know when that dissatisfaction started but I really don't want to think about it now, as there is nothing that I can do about it.

I leave abruptly and ride through the city, finding a small comfort in that _at least_ I still derive satisfaction from riding; it always helps clear my head. I'm more vigilant tonight, thinking that maybe my instincts have warned me about some kind of unexpected danger, but nothing happen as usual. I'm not surprised. The sight of a big man in dark armor with a half burned ugly face is enough to discourage anyone from foolhardy schemes. And as I enter the castle, only the regular insults are exchanged between me and those that stand guard.

Going down the stairs of the Serpentine, I come in through a side door and enter the Keep. I feel like sniggering at these feelings that I've had all day long. _So much for this nonsense, I must be really tired. _Still, as I enter the first hallway, I'm sensing that the feeling is becoming very strong now; an icy finger touches the back of my neck, making the small hair there stand up. _Is my death coming now?_ In spite of myself I feel that I'm becoming tense. I stride in hallways that are empty; I only hear the sound of my boots resonating hollowly in the stillness. This is normal at this time of night; but it feels different now. The only movements are coming from the flames of the torches; they bend and struggle against the currents of air, their flickering light creating dancing shadows.

As I cross the junction of the hallway that will take me to my quarters, a distant sound catches my ears and that makes me stop in my tracks. It sounds like pattering and it's coming in this direction! Contrary to my nature, some instinct makes me retreat in a shadowed corner. I touch the pommel of my sword. The sound is getting closer now and is becoming clearer: light running footsteps created by slippers, not boots. I lean my neck from the corner and I stare intently at the other end of the hallway, where suddenly appears a figure in an ornate blue dress, face white and long copper hair flying behind it.

Sansa Stark! I can hear her laboured breathing now and see how her eyes are enlarged by terror, the whites showing. The sight starts my heart hammering in my chest. I feel stuck rigidly in my corner. What is she doing here, running like this? This feels like a hunt, and she's the prey. She's approaching fast to where I'm hidden, and will pass by quickly and vanish if I don't do anything. And still I don't move, rooted by hesitation, rooted by old habits and loyalties. It's happening too fast... Then as she runs by my hiding place, I jump from the shadows and catch her from behind, grabbing her around the waist and clamping my hand on her mouth before she screams. Then I think that I'm starting to hear some kind of commotion coming from the same direction that she appeared from.

I drag her struggling to my chamber, closing the door with a shoulder and locking it hurriedly; then I push her further as I lower my head to her ear, whispering harshly.

"Don't scream now little bird. I'll help you."

Although she has stopped struggling, as soon as she has recognised the sound of my voice her body has stiffened. I release her from my hold and stand in front of her, gripping her shoulders hard. She's panting, trying to regain her breath; her blue eyes are gazing in mine fearfully and I can feel her trembling through my hands.

"You'll be safe if you do exactly as I say."

_I need to keep my wits about me._ I know that by interfering in what whatever is playing out now that I've crossed a line and betrayed my old loyalties, and that if the King finds her in my room, I'll lose my head and she will die a slow tortured death.

As to remind me of this, I hear heavy stomping footsteps, coming from boots this time, in the hallway beyond my door, and they're coming fast. Her face gets paler still and she starts to shake badly. I lower my head down, speaking urgently.

"Now, try to stay calm. Your life depends on it. You go under the bed, and follow my cues. Under will mean roll from under the bed and when I say it again, roll back in. I'll create a distraction while you do that. NOW!"

She moves like in a trance and disappears clumsily but fast under the bed. Fortunately, my coverlet is thick and the sides touch the floor. I mess up the top of the bed, bring the basin and put it on the floor near the head of the bed.

The footsteps have stopped at the door; somebody tries to open it and finding it unyielding, pounds on it.

"Hound, open up in the name of your King!"

The pounding continues with lots of yapping, and I shout that I'm coming in a cracked voice. I feel lightheaded and stagger to the door like when I'm drunk, my knees wanting to buckle under me. As I unlock the door and open it, I barely have time to glimpse the King, ser Meryn, ser Balon and one of my men as they crowd me in their impatience to enter. _Hells, it must be very serious if the King has deigned to be part of the pursuit._ I cough a bit and make gagging sounds, causing them to retreat hastily from me.

"What the fuck do you want?" I growl. "This is my night off."

"What's wrong with you?" asks the King. "You look flushed and out of breath, and you sound like you're going to be sick".

I make a grimace and rub my stomach. "I don't feel good. Something I ate doesn't seem to be agreeing with me."

Ser Meryn smirks. "Or maybe you drank too much, as usual."

I snort at him. I would be hard to choose which one, between him and the King that I resent the most. The pretty boy looks at me impatiently, and I clutch my middle, gagging again.

"Where is she?"

"Who are you talking about?"

"The Stark girl!" Joffrey says exasperatedly, as if it should have been obvious to me too. "Ser Meryn thought that she was wandering to this part of the Keep. Have you not encountered her?"

"How the fuck could I have?" I bite back. "I've been here feeling sick. Leave me alone."

I move to go back to my bed, but Joffrey stands up in front of me, looking very peevish.

"Then you'll recover. Now!" he orders. "I need you to find her for me, and right now: starting with this room."

I can't believe the gall of this boy. Rage fuels me so well that I don't feel any nervousness about the very real danger of this situation, and I lift a hand mockingly.

"Then let them search my room! But as you can see, there're not much hiding places in this rat hole."

_It is _a spare room, a soldier's rooms with no frills. The three walk around the chamber, foolishly looking in corners, and I could really laugh at their serious intent. Meryn opens up the chest and checks inside, naturally finding nothing; the girl would have to be folded in two to be able to fit in. He looks at the King for further instructions, coming again to join our group. _How stupid men can get when they obey a mad one!_

Joffrey is really getting worked up, and points at the bed.

"Look under the bed, you fools! It's the obvious place. That's where she is!" he screeches.

I roll my eyes upward, shaking my head in derision.

"You're not serious, are you? Why would the Stark girl hide under my bed? She cannot bear the sight of me and she's terrified by me. And I'm your dog, remember?"

"Nevertheless, my dog will lift the bedcovers so we can look. And Meryn, lower the lamp."

I shrug indifferently. "If that what your grace wants, who am I to argue? Let's look _under_ the bed then."

While we all lower ourselves on our knees, I clutch my middle urgently, grimace and start to gag again, and the King keeps a prudent distance from me. Ironically, the pain is real now, gripping my stomach. My fit over, I lift the right side of the coverlet, while Meryn points the lamp under the bed, moving it slowly so it can light up the farthest reaches. We all bend over to look. The coverlet is thick enough so that no shadows created by the light can be seen through it. Fortunately there's nothing under the bed, and relief surges through me.

"Are we finished now?" I ask in a bored tone.

"No, I cannot see in that corner! Meryn, point the light there!"

"Enough! Do you think that the little bird has transformed into a mouse? I'm sick of this. We've seen nothing _under_ that fucking bed."

I drop the side of the coverlet, and the king's face turns bright red.

"Dog, I'll have you speak to me with more respect than that! Or else..."

I choose that moment to start coughing and gagging again, doing it with such force that it turns my stomach, and crawling fast on my hands and knees, I barely have time to reach the basin before I throw up in it, my sides heaving. While I'm having a bad turn, I'm still able to feel amused at the speed the King and the men have recoiled from me, not wanting to dirty up their pretty clothing. Finished, I drag myself up and sit heavily on the edge of the bed, having to catch my breath.

The King is even more furious. "Dog, be careful of what you do! This is disgusting, you almost splashed me."

"I told you that I was sick. Will you leave me be then?"

He pinches his mouth. "But I need you to search for her, all over the castle!"

I can well see him having a tantrum, as childish as he's looking now. I sigh again and look at him. "I'm in no shape for it boy, as you can see." I look at my man. "Make up a search party of fifteen, in teams of three. Start looking at the upper levels down to this one. Have others ride to the Gates to see if the guards found her trying to escape through them. Report regularly to the King, and if I start to feel better, I'll join the search. Satisfied, your Grace?"

He's clearly unhappy about it, as I know that I am the only one that he really trusts, but then his face lights up.

"I'll send the healer; he'll give you a potion and then you'll feel better!"

_All the better for it, sending the healer; exactly the man that I need. There won't be suspicion cast on him later, as the king himself had him sent to me. _While I had acted unthinkingly in catching her midflight in the hallway, meanwhile thoughts fast and furious have calculated hard in my head, creating the outlines of something.

They finally leave, and I can breathe better. I drink some wine to take away the nasty taste in my mouth and then get up, picking up the basin on my way to the open window and throwing it through it, vile contents and all. I hear it giving a satisfying metallic clatter as it lands further away on the ground. _Good, I won't need it again._

I come back to the bed and kneel down again, lifting the coverlet and finding her huddling under it. I drag her, and picking her up under her armpits, help her stand up. She looks dusty and flustered and is breathing fast. Regardless of her state, the danger and terror, I can see a concern in her eyes as she looks up at me.

"I'm sorry, you're really sick, aren't you?" she asks worriedly.

I could shake my head._ This is so like her._

I chuckle drily. "No, I tried too hard to be convincing. I'm fine. As for you, I hope that you didn't find any corpses or something horrible under the bed? You did well, by the way. The immediate danger is gone."

Now, she looks around my chamber wonderingly and with some surprise, as she perhaps imagined that my room was a place of untold horrors, with bloody weapons and cut off heads on the walls. But it's only a room, with a bed, some gear, a chest and a nightstand with a flagon of wine on it. She fixes her eyes on the floor.

"Is it, really?"

"Yes." I put a hand that I hope is steady on her arm, and I can feel her flesh shrinking from the touch, looking fearfully at me. This makes me gnash my teeth in rage, but I remove the hand. I want to tell her to stop being afraid of me for once, but I only sigh in exasperation.

Before we can say anymore more, somebody knocks on the door again and I ask who it is. "Elmar," answers the healer and I open the door in a narrow slit, just wide enough for him to slip through, and then I close the door again, all the while standing in his face as to block this view. He looks at me quizzically.

"You don't look very sick."

"No, I don't. But I still need your help. I need your word; that what you hear and see tonight won't get out of this room."

I have known Elmar for a long time. We had both saved each other's life in the past: he had healed me from a badly infected wound, and I had saved his life later on. I had brought him here to the Keep, where he had become the healer. I'm counting on his gratitude now.

He inclines his head. "I give you my word ser. I owe you a lot."

I move sideways, allowing him full view of the other occupant of the chamber, and he steps back, visibly shocked. But when he speaks, his tone is calm.

"Oh, I see."

"_Oh_ indeed." I turn to look at her. "Now, what was the meaning of this?"

She wrings her hands and I can see real torment in her contracted features. She doesn't say anything and is trying to avoid my gaze. I stride near her and lean down.

"I want to know why the knights and the King were running you down at this time of night. What happened?"

"I cannot speak of it."

This creates the sound of bells ringing dangerously in my head. I don't like this at all. "You'll have to speak girl. I need to know."

My tone has gotten harsher, and Elmar clear his throat and signal with his eyes for me to back off. Reluctantly I do it, and it is Elmar's compassionate way of gazing at her that finally unlocks her words. She lowers her gaze and bends down her neck while her hands keep gripping each other.

"The ... the King has tried to enter my chamber at night. I always lock it, so I feel ... safer. He keeps knocking and calling me, and I pretend that I sleep and don't hear until he goes away."

I can feel my mouth start to twitch, and I clench my fists repeatedly to contain my climbing anger.

"How long as this been going on?" I growl.

"It started several weeks ago. I never know when he's going to come, as he doesn't do it every day, and sometimes three or four days pass before he tries again. The last time he came, two days ago, he said that next time he would bring some of his knights, and that they would break down my door!"

She sobs on her last words and I can see her trembling all over. My insides are tensing hard and I have to breathe slowly for a moment, as I'm seeing red. The King would never have dared to act like this while still being betrothed to her. Her status as a royal betrothed had protected her. _Fool that I was;_ I had expected, with the king now betrothed to another that he would be distracted by a new pretty girl and would finally leave her alone. But no, the spoiled boy still wants to play with his toy! This makes me feel even more powerless and angry. And I've been feeling like this for a long time.

I speak in a raspy tone, "So is that's what happened tonight?"

"There was no time for it to happen. As the hour grew later, I got more and more scared that he would come, and I couldn't stay in my room waiting for this. As soon as I left it, I heard footsteps coming further down the hallway, and I panicked and ran down the stairs."

Her arms have come up in a protective manner across her chests, her hands gripping her shoulders. She's still looking down on the floor, and I realise that this comes from shame. I feel my teeth start to gnash against themselves again. I know better than to touch her, but I come closer and lower down my face near hers.

"Look at me!"I order and she does it reluctantly. "You're safe for the moment, but the search is going on, and even if we found you a good hiding place, you won't be able to stay hidden forever. So what do you want now? If you stay, this will go on, but even worse since you defied him, and I won't be able to stop it. Or do you want to leave?"

She gasps at my words. The idea has come too suddenly for her and the shock of it is making her even more overwhelmed. Her eyes are rolling in panic. I can see that she's in no shape to make a decision, but at the same time, I want her assent.

"There's no time to reflect. If you don't want to escape, just leave this room and we'll speak no more of this."

For a moment she glances around in hesitation, then clenches her fists and gives a small curt nod.

I blow out a big breath and turn to Elmar. "And you healer, are you willing to help with this?"

I have watched his face from the corner of one eye while she spoke and have seen a lot of turmoil in it, an unusual tension hardening his jaws; he's bothered by this, having a young daughter. He nods silently.

"Well then. I need you to bring her downstairs in your quarters; have your wife find her servant's clothes, and dress her in a couple of layers of them, as she won't be able to bring anything with her. Hide her hair too. Also, I want you or your wife to make her up, like she has been beaten in the face. The search of the castle will take some hours, so you won't be bothered. I know a girl, Roslyn, who looks a bit like her. Near the end, I will have 'suspicions' that this Roslyn knows something. I'll send my men outside the gates to begin a search. You'll hear the racket. At midnight, bring the lady in the stables by the rear entrance, and I'll pretend to conduct an interrogation and beating of this girl. Everybody will hear. Then I'll leave to join the party with my new 'information'. Is everything clear?"

"Yes ser. It will be done."

While Elmar hasn't questioned the why of attempting something so dangerous, I feel through his compassionate healer's eyes that he's seeing clearly through me, and I am grateful that he doesn't say or ask anything.

"We'll bring her down now, and then I will have to join the search, and report that you cured me with one of your potions, so there will be no connection with you. Let's go."

Because of all the commotion and people upstairs, the way down is clear and we reach the healer's quarter without mishaps. I give them one last look and leave abruptly.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER II**

**Sandor**

The next hours seem like a dream, as it feels very strange to have to play the role of the _old_ Hound. On my way up the stairs, I have realised that the weariness and the fog that had enveloped me for so long are gone; I feel alive again. I even feel like _smiling._ This kind of joy is an unfamiliar feeling to me, and I think that I'm not handling it well. _Clamp on it dog; time enough after to feel 'joy'. You're a soldier, so buck up._ The old discipline seems to work, and when I join the others on the second upper floor I feel calm. And spying the look of satisfaction spreading on the King's face as he spots me works to destroy the last of my good mood. I feel the old resentment well up in me. _You spoiled boy, thinking that I'll always there to do your bidding, regardless of pain or sickness. This is the last time, you little bastard._

In a way, this playing the role of the Hound is amusing, as I get to fan even more of my natural anger to hide my real thoughts, and using this excitement gives me a lot of energy, striding faster, barking orders at my men. I insult everybody as I wish. Once one of the men, upon first seeing me join them, asked if the tender care of the healer's wife had helped my health, and I told him off by saying that if he didn't stop his fucking blabbing, he would need the healer's services fast.

The latest report has been that the guards saw nobody trying to slip through the Gates.

Especially now, I relish it all, this futile search, everybody getting more nervous by the King's increasingly bad mood, because none of it matters to me anymore. And I'm experiencing a peculiarly delicious malevolent joy as I look on the king's spiteful face. _You'll never have her or hurt her again! She's my prize now!_

At the same time, I question the servants, who've been roused from their beds, and I wait until near the end of the search to question Roslyn, the one that I was looking for. I grab her arm and drag her in a storage room and push her against the wall. She starts to whimper and I shush her by slashing a finger against my throat. She's thinking that I'm going to rape her and shrinks further back against the wall. Then she gets even more confused as I do nothing except keeping her pressed to the wall, so she won't run off and undo everything. I wait the necessary amount of minutes; then we come out and the men look at me with raised brows and smirks.

"I think that this girl saw something; somebody was seen with Sansa Stark, but she doesn't want to say more. With the help of this other one I think that the bird probably managed to find a way through the dungeons and their airing crate, thus by passing the gates. I'll have to take some stronger measures to know who helped her."

"No! I'm innocent; you're lying! I didn't see anything, I know nothing!" She's shrieking in terror; I jerk her arm and take her with me down the stairs to the stables, screaming all the way. This makes the men laugh heartily.

They all follow behind us to the stables in the courtyard. As I stand near the opening of the stables, the men troop in front of me, waiting for further instructions. Thankfully, Joffrey has retired to his chamber for the last half hour, bored with the long unfruitful search. He would have stuck to me like mud to a pig, and I have gambled on his lack of patience.

"Go to the Gods Gate, and start the search in the Kingswood. I'll be joining you shortly, once I get more information out of this wretch."

Somebody distributes torches among the men, and they all start to lead their horses out of the stables and mount. The girl has stopped screaming, and as I grab her arm, I can feel her shaking like a leaf. I take her to the shadowed parts of the stables, where there's a semi open room with old saddles and equipment. I move my torch around the corners, and there in the darkest one, I spy a hooded figure, with her back turned. I let out a big sigh, not realising until now that I has stopped breathing. I stop, put the torch on a sconce and blocking her view, I release my hold on the servant girl. The colour drains from her face immediately, and she looks at me like a terrified rabbit.

"You can go now."

She looks at me, bewildered and uncomprehending, and I have to push her near the back door.

"Go! Go back to your bed; this was a bad dream. Understand?"

She looks at me gratefully, and skitters out of the stables as fast as she can. When she has left, the hooded figure turns around, facing me. I lower the hood, and gazing at her face, whistle softly. She has dark bruises under each eye, a red one on her left cheek, and some blood is smeared off on the left corner of her mouth. With the kerchief that is wound around her head and the simple gowns, she's unrecognizable.

"Good. They did well. Now, for the fun part..."

She looks alarmed. "What ... do you mean?"

"I have to pretend to beat you, remember? You'll have to scream."

"But I'm not a screamer."

I feel again like shaking her, like I have felt so many times before, but I only sigh in exasperation. "But this girl _is _one_._ You'll just have to scream a bit, but mind you, no words; your accent would betray you. Think of Joffrey if he finds you. That'll make you scream for a century. Scream!" I order through clenched teeth.

I go near an old saddle and slap it mightily, and it has the satisfying smack of flesh on flesh. The little bird lets out a small scream of surprise, and then as I hit it repeatedly, she gives out more convincing screams. I also add grunts of efforts, and when I think that it has gone long enough, I stop, letting out a whoop of triumph.

"Now you're singing! Let's go."

I move to take her arm but she stops me by tugging at my sleeve. Her upturned face has a worried expression again.

"But the girl... Will she be in danger tomorrow, when they'll question her?"

I sigh through my teeth and raise my eyes to the ceiling. "_No,_" I snicker, imitating her tone. "When they find no bruises on her face, they'll know that this was a mummer's farce, that she was a dupe. Reassured now?"

I pick up the torch again and take her to where Stranger is boxed, all ready like I asked and lift her up on him. I lead the horse outside the stables, and as I had anticipated, there's a small crowd of curious onlookers. They try to see the damage I have wrought on her and they manage to catch of glimpse of it before she hangs her head dejectedly. They look at me with new horror; now I've started to beat helpless wenches. I scowl at them and mount behind her, taking hold of the reins with one arm and with the other holding her safely to me. Stranger, who's starting to get nervous by these people crowding us, dances around and neighs loudly.

"I've found information! Now, out of the way!"

I charge through them and they scatter like frightened sheep. I guide Stranger and let him have his way, galloping at top speed to the gate. _We don't have much time to spare. My men will be busy for some time searching through the woods, and when they realise that I'm not coming, they won't understand at first, but will regroup soon enough, get the King and then things will start to heat up._

I slow down as we come near the gate, and the little bird squirms under my arm. I lower down my head to whisper in her ear.

"We're almost there. As I speak to the guard, I want you to sob, cry a bit. _That _shouldn't be hard for you to do, should it?"

I feel her stiffen, and I realise that I've her hurt again. I always manage to do it, even when I don't want to, being the surly savage dog that I am. _She's not a screamer, but is she a crier_! I've never met someone who cried so much; crying in the hallways, at court, in the godswood, like an everlasting fountain of tears.

We stop at the guard's tower, and the guard advances on us, all inflated by his important role. He sneers when he sees her bruised face. She sobs like a kitten.

"Did quite a job on her, eh Hound? Then he squints suspiciously. "Why bring her though?"

"Because I'll use her as bait," I answer in a flat, bored tone. "I'm pretty sure where the lady is hiding, so I'll threaten to kill this girl to draw her out."

"Good plan. The King will be happy."

"If you want so much to keep the King happy, then stop making me waste time and let me pass, you fucking fool. Or I'll deal with you myself on my return."

He pales a bit and moves, opening the door to the gate. Then off we are.

The full moon is going down in the sky; but is enough to light up the way. I follow the road up to a crossroad, which is far enough from both the castle and the Kingswood, and veer abruptly to the left. I don't like how his has lengthened the distance to my destination but I had no choice if I didn't want to arouse suspicions at the gate. _Now we have to ride halfway around the city._

Sansa Stark, still being in a sullen mood, has remained silent until she suddenly asks me to stop. I ignore her, and she repeats it in such an imperious tone that I stop, conditioned as I am to obey the highborn. But I'm very unhappy about it, feeling my tension mount to a breaking point. I get off the horse and help her dismount, scowling at her.

"What is it now? Don't you realize that speed is crucial?" I'm speaking through clenched teeth again and she looks up at me, her features set in a determined expression.

"I have something important to tell you."

"This is no time for words! Come now."

She opens her mouth to speak, and I shush her in an abrupt gesture. I listen to the stillness, for a sound of hoof beats, some voices, and while I can hear only the wind through the leaves, I feel the hackles rising on my skin. Something feels wrong somehow, and I start to breathe faster like a tracked beast. Then it hits me suddenly, and my blood boils in a black fury. I bend down and shake her hard.

"I understand now why you wanted to stop! You told a most awful tale to move me, and I felt for it like a fool! You've led me into an ambush!" I hate to hear the sound of the pain that is cracking my voice.

"What? Stop it!"

"Yes, this is it! You made a deal with the King, asking for your freedom in exchange for rooting out a traitor and giving me to him, my head on a spike!"

"What are you saying?" She looks genuinely bewildered, her eyes luminous and clear. She puts a hand gently on my arm, but I fling it back angrily. "You saw yourself how the knights were running after me. I didn't even know today that I would escape! How could I know of your plan, of which path you would take? I don't even know where we're going! And I would never make a 'deal' with the King," she adds disdainfully as if it were the most contemptible thing to do in the word.

What she says makes sense, and reason slowly cools down my anger. Now, I'm starting to feel like a fool again, but I still want to hold on to my anger, feeling more comfortable with it and my mistrust. I blow out a breath and ask her more calmly "Then why did you want to stop?"

"Because I was realising that it was selfish of me to involve you in this, and I thought that if you went back now, you wouldn't be late in joining the others, and you wouldn't be in danger."

That concern again... _It's a wonder this girl is still alive, thinking like this._

"Me in danger?" I scoff it off. "Don't make me laugh. I don't see you lasting five minutes by yourself out here, much less trying to _protect_ me. Where would you go? Didn't think of that, did you? And I too want to leave this place."

"Why?"

"This is not the time to explain." I look deep in her eyes, still bristling. "Now, I'll protect you and keep you safe. But if I ever find out that you've lied to me, I'll kill you!"

She hasn't looked afraid as I've said this, and I wonder at this. Why? I know that I haven't _changed. _I don't understand it. And for the first time, she has looked at me in the face without flinching. _How can that be?_ Is the thought of Joffrey wanting to force his way into her bed even scarier that the sight of my scarred face?

She doesn't seem to sense or suspect that I will certainly _kill her_ if we are found because of her deceit; partly through rage at having being betrayed by her, partly to protect her from the increasingly bad ways that Joffrey will treat her if she ever gets under his power again. _The gift of mercy... _

Deal or no deal, he's still a cruel spoiled boy who will want to play with his favourite toy until he breaks it. A part of me can understand her making desperate deals with the king; her life since the execution of her father having been awful enough. But I'm starting to believe less and less in her duplicity. She's always been an innocent and idealistic young girl, as I've _reproached her often enough;_ her real feelings always shining through her badly told lies, and she's incapable of intrigue.

As for my life, I don't care, as long as I kill as many as I can before I go down.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER III**

**Sandor**

As we approach the harbor, I spy a man on a horse at the back of a low building. He turns his head swiftly at the sound of the hoof beats, and I recognise my other ally, to whom I had spoken to while searching the castle; somebody that I had almost no contact with in the daily life of the castle, but who felt grateful too. While he's one who knows the way out of the dungeons and the city walls, this was not good for my plan. I had wanted to leave in a legitimate way as to create no alerts. And he's unimportant enough so will probably be ignored in the questioning that will follow the lady's disappearance and mine. I signal him to stay still, and we join him. He breathes a sigh of relief, recognising both Stranger and me.

"Am I glad to see you! You made good time. No difficulties getting away?"

"No, I killed them all." He blanches at this, and it makes me chuckle. "Just a jest, friend; what happened with your part? How did it go?"

"I have spoken to Thoren. He's agreed to take you on and is waiting for you."

"Good. You can go now." I dismount from my horse and lift her off him. Then I tear off my white cloak, take out a spare bloody knife and hand them to him. "Roll the cloak in dirt and grass, and when you're in the Kingswood, drop it on the ground with the knife. You lead back my horse there too, and sneak your way back in the Keep."

"Aye. Good luck to you."

I watch him as he rides away with Stranger following, and I feel a wrench as I see them disappear quickly in the murkiness. _That was a good horse, the best that I've ever had. _As I gaze at the sky, I can see faint signs of light, of the coming dawn. The cool breeze has a cleansing effect on my face.

Sansa Stark, after being quiet for so long - probably being too polite to dare interrupt us until we were finished - is showing signs of agitation and I look down at her. She's frowning.

"Why are we here?"

I point at one of the big docked ships not far away. "You see that big brown ship? We'll get on her soon."

"Going where?"

"To the east, across the Narrow Sea."

She looks shocked. "What? But I don't want to go there!"

"I don't care. There's no time left now for arguing. Dawn is coming soon, and the harbor will fill with people. We can't be seen. And I'm sick of your protests and interferences! "

Before she has the time to protest more or move, I lift her on my shoulder like a sack, and take long strides in the direction of Thoren's ship, feeling like the ground is burning the soles of my boots. Never have a few strides taken so long before I spy a tall thickset man with a grey beard standing on the deck of his ship. _Thoren..._ I climb the ladder and jump on the deck with my burden. He directs me immediately inside the cabin on the right, and I let her slide standing on the floor inside.

Thoren has watched this with a half smile full of curiosity, his head cocked to the side.

"You've brought me a prize now?"

"No. This is _my_ prize_._ Are we ready to go now?"

"We can. I was just waiting for you. That's the time I usually leave."

He leaves shortly outside to gather the crew and shouts orders for departure. Having done that, he comes back in the cabin, and gestures at the seats around a small table. Sansa Stark is coming out of her shock and surprises me by lunging at me and striking me on the chest with a small fist. Unfortunately for her, her fist bounces without effect on the armor, and she winces in pain. Thoren and I both chuckle.

"Next time when you want to hit me, tell me in advance and I'll remove the plate. It won't be so painful for you then."

I find that I'm enjoying the sight of her being in fury; all that agitation having made the hood slide down to her nose.

"You never told me that we were going on a ship! I would have liked to know!"

I smirk. "You never asked."

She jumps on me again, and I turn her around and grab her from behind, one arm encircling her small waist and the other one subduing her flailing arms, bending and holding her tightly against me as she tries to move without effect.

Thoren smiles appreciatively and then turns his gaze to me.

"Nice temper! But now dog, stop tormenting this girl, and let us all sit down."

She has quieted down, and I release her reluctantly. I had really enjoyed holding her like this, like she was _my captive._ I lower her hood and Thoren gasps when he sees her bruised face. I put up a hand.

"Not my work, friend. Get me a wet cloth and you'll understand."

Thoren nods and goes through a side door at the back of the cabin. I turn to her and put a hand on her shoulder. "I know that you're upset, but as I explain things you'll understand." She turns her gaze away from mine, pressing her lips together.

When Thoren returns, I take the cloth and rub it as gently as I can all over her face, revealing once again her fine features. Reaching behind her, I untie the kerchief and unroll it, releasing her hair and letting it spill down her shoulders. At the sight, Thoren gasps again.

"Is it who I think this is? The King's betrothed? What have you done? There'll be hell to pay."

"Then be glad that we're getting away. Now, we can all sit down and have some wine."

He raises an eyebrow at me. "You've complicated my life a lot, I think."

But I don't think that he's really that bothered. Knowing me, he's trusting that I made a good escape plan. Good naturedly, he goes to rummage in a cupboard, returning with we need, a flagon of wine and three cups. Little bird looks at hers sullenly.

"But I don't much like wine."

"Never mind." My voice is stern. "It will do you good and help you to sleep better."

Thoren finishes by filling up my cup_. Finally..._ I lift it to my mouth and drink it all at once. It makes him chuckle.

"Always the thirsty old dog, aren't you? Come, have some more." He pours another full measure in the cup. "Now, this is all well and good, but I would like to know the tale. You've never given me an inkling of this when we met last week."

"I didn't know myself. It all happened very fast."

I turn my gaze to her. She's sitting stiffly on her bench, her eyes glancing around uneasily. It comes to me that she's afraid of being in a closed room with us, _two big men,_ thinking maybe that I brought her here for my friend and me to have our fun with her. I put a steadying hand on her arm briefly.

"Little bird, you have nothing to fear here. I've not led you into a trap. Thoren is a friend and will not hurt you."

This seems to reassure her a bit, and I continue to look in her eyes. "I know that leaving Westeros is not what you wanted."

"I thought that you would bring me back to my mother's family, even to Winterfell!"

"Don't you realise the folly of it? Unrest is all over the land, battles happening everywhere and it will get even worse. Can you see us riding north through all these factions fighting, with maybe the King's gold cloaks on our tails? We would be doomed before we had even started the journey. That's the price of your freedom, and mine too."

I can see understanding dawning in her eyes, the knowledge that she probably won't see her family again. She lowers her head and says in a small voice "I hadn't thought of it. I'm sorry that I seem ungrateful."

"Will you stop being sorry! What a waste of time. Like we said earlier, I met Thoren in town last week. We talked, and last night I remembered that he was to sail this morning, and I grasped the opportunity. We have history together, having been comrades in arms. Although he doesn't fight anymore and is a freighter's captain, we saved each other's life so often in the past that I knew he would do me this favor without asking questions first."

She suddenly looks very tired, all the excitement of the last hours catching up with her, and with the wine doing its work too. _Little bird has missed her usual bedtime._

I ask her if she wants to go lie down now.

"Yes, please." she answers in the same small voice, her eyes looking vulnerably at me. _What a child she still is!_

"Well, you're in luck." says Baelor. "I have three nice cabins here. This one is mine, and on the upper level there are two small ones connecting to a room like this. One of them belonged in the past to the first officer that I had before the wars. I've had a hard time finding a good crew with these wars, and couldn't afford the time to look for a first officer; business being hard enough with all this turmoil. I'll talk to you about this later."

He gets up to show us where the cabins are. We got out and ascend stairs. While they are small, I'm surprised at how nice and clean they are. Each one has a roomy bed, a chest, nightstand and a porthole with curtains, and the sitting room has the same features as his. Opening from another door is a small hallway, with another door revealing a privy. When he lifts the cover to show us the hole, we can see sea waves rippling at the deep bottom of it, and Sansa Stark and I both recoil, finding the sight of this a bit unsettling. I've never been at sea, and I think that she hasn't either. Let's hope that we don't get seasick.

Thoren leaves us. The sun is rising now, and I lean against her cabin's door, watching her as she looks around, the rays lighting up her copper hair. She glances at me, fearful again and bidding her a good rest, I leave abruptly. She'll probably go to sleep easier if she knows that I won't be there to crouch down on her as soon as she lies down.

As I return to Thoren's cabin, he grins at me.

"What a hardship for you, eh dog, to have a cabin next to this beauty?"

We both laugh at this and sit down again. He gazes at me quizzically.

"I'm surprised though that you came back so fast here, with what you have upstairs in that bed. What's wrong with you?"

I snap back drily. "She needs to rest, and I want us to talk; you wanted to know the tale."

"Come now; at least admit that you want this girl to wrap her thighs around your waist. I've seen the way that you look at her."

My fist starts to clench and I slowly put the cup down on the table. I look at Thoren through narrowed eyes, and he raises his eyebrows in surprise. "Thoren, we've known each other long, so I hope that I'll have to say this to you only once. I won't have her spoken of in this manner She's a real little lady."

"But why? You've never cared for titles before. You said that they were hollow and false."

"I've made an exception for her."

He nods and I can feel that he's disappointed, knowing that things will be different now: no more whoring together and sharing. I relax my fist, resting my hand on the table. Then I ask him if he has somebody on the lookout for pursuing ships.

"Yes, I have, and there's no sign of any pursuit. And now, I want the tale."

I tell it all succinctly.

"You planned well, you cunning dog. I don't think that they'll be able to figure it out soon." He sighs, and then goes on. "Even though I'm surprised by what you did, you who have always followed the rules and obeying to the high born, I had felt last week something different in you, like you were becoming unhinged."

I smile without joy. "Was I? I was tired of being an obedient dog; that life didn't agree with me anymore. Robert, I could stand. He was a _real_ King. But that vicious pup... I can't abide watching pain being inflicted for pleasure's sake."

My mouth starts to twitch, and I make an effort to stop it. He looks on at me calmly. "So, he mistreated her, his betrothed."

"That he did. He had her beaten regularly. Not with his own hands though; he used his knights to do it in his place. He liked to watch. Played games of cat and mouse with her all the time too. And there I stood helplessly, watching it all. I tried to protect her, although she never asked for it. Then the pretty boy went too far..."

He raises an eyebrow. "Oh, then she must have recognized your valour and good qualities."

I snort dismissively. "Stop this. She agreed because I was the only one able and willing. She had no choice if she wanted to leave."

We go on to other subjects, spending time reminiscing about the past. We have some more wine and breakfast, which is brought to us by the cabin boy, who _naturally_ startles at my appearance and face. Afterward, I check up on the little bird, who seems to be resting well, and even though I'm exhausted by now, I feel too agitated to go to bed. When I come back, Thoren bursts in laughter.

"Dog, you're tiring me out with all that pacing around. You're dead on your feet. Everything is well. Go rest now. Time enough after to start to learn your new duties."

"Well then."

I get up and leave, ascending the stairs again and entering the quarters, locking the door behind me. I cross the sitting room and go in my chamber, taking care to remove the plated parts of my armor, the mail, straps and weapons as quietly as possible. I hang the belt with the scabbard at the head of the bed, and remove my boots.

I walk silently to her room. _Seven hells! All this tiptoeing around, precaution and care are such hard work, I'm not used to that! _I squat down near the head of the bed. She doesn't stir. Her head is resting on her clasped hands, like a child, and in sleep her features have become even more innocent and young.

Exhaustion and being in these new and unfamiliar surroundings has made me feel dazed; the madness and impulsiveness of my actions overwhelms me... She's the only familiar thing in the cabin; seemingly close yet unreachable to me. All of this creates a lump that chokes my throat and a stinging in my eyes. I lift my arm and extend it to her head, my fingers hovering near her hair, wanting to touch it; but the thought of waking her up from that sweet slumber, of the shock she'll have upon opening her eyes to the sight of my face stops my hand in mid movement, and I lower it back to my side.

The movement breaks the spell. I sigh and get up, leaving the room quietly. My own bed welcomes me, and as I let my head rest on the pillow, I feel all the tension loosening from my muscles, my limbs; I let the rocking movements of the waves lull me, and as I drift off, I feel a great sense of calm claim me.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter IV**

**Sansa's Journal**

I wake up with a start, the fast thumps of my heart pounding through me. I sit up in the bed and glance wildly around me, not recognizing the familiar features of my chamber at the Keep. The room is small and plain. I'm feeling a strange movement underneath, a rocking like...

Waves... Waves of the sea! Then I remember it all, the terror, running in the halls, the wild gallop on _his_ horse, then this ship. To be sure that this is real, I get up and part the curtains, and there it is: an immense expanse of blue waves with foaming white crests with no shore in sight.

Overwhelmed, I got sit down on the edge of the bed, wondering what time of the day it is. Probably before sundown, as the light has dimmed. I find out that I'm calming down and I take deep breaths, gathering my awakening wits. Then it is true, I'm away from that prison, from the unending fear and pretending!

I remember last night when I was running and trying to escape from the knights being caught suddenly by a hard arm, a big hand on my face stifling me. I had recognized right away the feel of _these_ hands, _having been grabbed by them often enough in the past._ _The Hound!_ In despair, I had thought that this was the end, that I was doomed. Of all the bad luck to have run into that part of the castle that was unknown to me, the part where he _dwelled._ He was the King's dog, his sworn shield! He would just wait and shout to the coming knights that he had me and deliver me to his master.

But that hadn't happened... Instead, he had hidden me in his room and had offered to help me, and the unexpectedness of this had paralysed me and I couldn't think anymore. I didn't understand why he would do this and had felt cornered by finding myself having to choose between two of the men that I feared the most.

I had been terrified of him from the first. The burned side of his face was hideous enough to look at, but if he had had a gentler manner about him, I could have gotten accustomed to it; but for it to be paired with these angry eyes and harsh ways terrified me. He would erupt in rage at the slightest thing, for no reason that I could fathom sometimes. He had a deep raspy voice that sounded weary and older than his years. I remember when he had found me, after my father had been found a traitor, when the world as I had known it had been destroyed forever.

My lord father had wanted both Arya and I to go back to Winterfell on a ship, and I hadn't wanted to go or to hear the urgency of his wish. I hadn't known then that it would be the last time that I would be with him. Later, the keep had been overrun by guards searching, and my septa had told me to run from my room, that they were looking for us. _Why?_

I had desperately run then, only to be stopped in my tracts when I spied a tall figure in a dark cloak turning the corner of the hall in my direction. My heart had jumped in my throat as I had recognized the Hound. When he had seen me, he had paused, a cold expression of triumph spreading on his face. Then he had approached, walking deliberately slower, almost strutting, like a predator so confident that he'll catch his prey that he can take his time stalking it. That had chilled me. I had told me to stay away from me, that I would tell the queen, and he had laughed mockingly. As I had retreated from him, he had continued to advance on me until I was cornered, and I felt overwhelmed by his height and the way his powerful body cut off my vision of everything except his big plated chest.

He had been sent by the queen, he's said, and would take me to her. _I didn't want that, as I knew that she had become my enemy then!_ I had started to walk meekly enough beside him, but when I thought that he was looking elsewhere I had taken off and ran as fast as I could. That hadn't lasted long: in a few strides he had caught me from behind, his arms holding my middle and arms beneath a steel vise, and he had kept me trapped like this until I was too tired to struggle. Then I had felt a warm breath on my ear, a voice whispering in a surprisingly gentle tone.

"It's too late, pretty bird. Just be thankful that it was me who caught you. The others wouldn't have been so gentle."

Gentle, him? I was shocked that he would dare to speak like this of knights, this big uncouth warrior. Knights were there to protect us! Of course, that was before I learned the true nature of knights.

His behavior toward me had softened somehow when the King started to behave cruelly toward me; some kind gestures and words, like he had cared for my welfare. It was he who had given me his cloak to cover myself when Ser Meryn had torn my clothes on the King's order. He always seemed to be there to save me every time that I was in distress. I had started to believe that the Hound was trying to help me, and this had comforted me, but when I encountered him alone in the Keep's hallways, he had often spoken to me in contempt, shouting at me; behaving like he hated me. Then I thought that I had probably imagined these acts of kindness.

On my last encounter with him at King's Landing on the rooftop, I hadn't understood why he had sounded oddly _disappointed_ when he had realised that he still scared me. How could he not scare me?

Now I wonder again why he had wanted to leave too. He hadn't answered when I had asked him, even though he had implied that he would later. I doubted that he _would_ ever tell me. When I asked him a question, he would behave like I was trying his patience to the extreme or didn't even deign to answer me at all. He certainly didn't need _me_ to escape; for him it was easy, he could just mount his horse and go out by a gate any time that he wanted to, without being asked a question. _He had the white cloak and the King's trust._

Folly as it was, I had accepted his offer. I had kept telling myself that I must have lost my mind to do this; at the same time I knew that I couldn't endure the situation at the Red Keep anymore. And what other options did I have? I was tired of waiting for ser Dontos to help me escape. My father was dead, my brother and mother on the field of battle; the queen's brother was held hostage by my mother, and nobody wanted to release Jaime or I. Arya had vanished and all that was left at Winterfell were my younger brothers.

I had been scared at first, alone with him and the captain in that room, but he had managed to quiet a part of my fears. When he had leaned against the doorway of my room, the fear had returned; I remembered how he had leered at me on the Serpentine steps, after he had caught me returning from the meeting with ser Dontos in the godswood. I had wanted badly to cover the front of my body with my cloak, but I had resisted the urge to do it, as he would have realised how uncomfortable I was and would have laughed knowingly.

But today I couldn't read the expression on his face at all and he had just left right away. The last of my tension had left, and I had fallen in a deep sleep as soon as I had rested my head on the pillow.

Now, what will happen in this foreign land, these Free Cities? I'll be in exile, stripped of everything; while I was a hostage and prisoner at the Keep, at least I still had my rank and my personal things: now I have nothing. The thought of it creates a deep hollow of despair in me.

But I have to admit to myself though that I had not been completely truthful with the Hound when I had claimed that I wanted to be back in Winterfell. Throughout my life there, I had felt stifled by the grey walls of the castle, the isolation, hungry for the few visitors who would bring excitement and distractions. I had longed to go in the South, watch the great deeds of the knights, the jousts; see the songs come to life, be in glittering company, visit a big city like King's Landing.

Now, without most of my family being there, it doesn't feel safe anymore. I wonder if I will ever feel at home again someplace.

An urgent need to relieve myself brings me out of my thoughts. While I am in this strange privy, I spy a bucket of water, some soap and clean cloths, and I try to wash myself as best as I can with these. It feels good; as I feel that I have cleaned away a layer from King's Landing.

When I come back to the common sitting room, I notice a plate of bread and cheese, a jar of water and a cup on the table. The thoughtful gesture comforts me, warming the cold hollow in me and bringing me some hope.

I sit down and drink thirstily from the cup, and then a realisation hits me. I had tried to escape in King's landing from all that I had feared by avoiding, pretending, being compliant. I've finally escaped from there, and now that I'm here, as much as this new situation feels unsettling and scary again, there's no place to escape anymore. I've reached the end; I cannot run from my fears anymore. I don't know how to do that, I'm so craven!

I have to reflect some more as I eat; I have to find a new way of doing things, maybe appealing to the better part of his nature, _if he has one._ The Hound has risked his very life to help me; that must count for something...


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter V**

**Sandor**

It seems like she will never wake up. The hours pass and she doesn't rise. I think that maybe all of this has been too much for her fragile nature, but I chide myself for these foolish thoughts. _She's tougher than you think; how else could she have managed to survive these two years of hell?_ After supper, I have the cabin boy to leave her something cold to eat and a waterskin.

After three hours of rest, I had spent time with the captain, and among other things, he had brought up the subject of the crew again.

"Like I said before, I'm very unhappy with my crew this time. So many went off to join some heir or pretender to the throne, and I'm left with thieves and bandits up to no good. In a way, you're doing me a favor too by being there, as I'll have my hands full. I couldn't hope for a better man than you to keep them in line."

"But I don't know anything about sailing and such. Won't be much of a help to you."

He smiled craftily. "But you'll learn, old dog. You were always quick on your feet and a good observer. However, my first need of you will be the discipline."

"Will I have full leeway with it?"

"Aye. And when we get to our destination, I'll need you to hire some new hands. Also, I can't guarantee the safety of the lady with that bunch of mean dogs."

"And I'm the meanest of them. It's my concern, captain. I'll start now."

As I stride on the deck later on, I've learned a lot about ships. The sun is going down, with stripes of red and orange tones drowning in the ocean's horizon. _Like her hair..._

Having only wavy water all around us gives me a strange feeling. There's still a good breeze, and it's warm, warmer than I thought it would be at sea...I look around at the men working on different chores, and some shrink back when I get nearer, while some, really grungy looking bastards, stare boldly, trying to get my measure. Nothing will happen now of course; it's like the deceptive calm before a storm, gathering forces for the battle of winds and water. It will build up and soon, some kind of attempt will come. I look forward to it.

I see her at the bow, leaning against the railing, her long hair lifted from her face by the wind. Her profile has a dreamy serene expression, her face upturned as if she was giving it to the elements. I don't move, as I know she'll lose the peace when I come closer and she sees me. She must have sensed my presence though, as she turns around and smiles. _I startle._ The pure joy of it and the golden light give a rosy tint to her skin, and I find my steps faltering. I've not seen her smile for such a long time, and now, not only is she looking at me in the face, _she smiles at me! _She never did. This makes me feel out of turn, and to regain my composure I scowl at her.

"Never lean against the railing! It's dangerous. Get back now!"

"Oh..." She looks contrite and steps back, having lost that smile. But then it appears again like a ghost on her lips and she looks up at me. "When I woke up, I thought that everything had been a dream, but when I realised that this was not my chamber, but a cabin at sea, I felt free!

"Not bothered from the roll of the waves?"

"No, I feel well. I love the breeze and the warmth. I never thought that being on a ship would be like this. And for you?"

"It seems to agree with me." My mouth twitches. "I'm surprised though that you slept so well. Were you not afraid?" I laugh bitterly.

The liveliness on her face leaves, replaced by the blank and distant expression that she had worn most of the time at King's Landing. She doesn't reply and turns back her head to gaze once again at the sky. That irritates me and brings back the anger.

I spy a rough looking bench and point at it. "Come here," I order and she obeys, sitting down at the deep end n_aturally... _This spites me more, and I sit deliberately closer to her; there's no room for her to back off. She doesn't look comfortable at all and lowers her head. She remains silent, and I can feel her gathering up her courage for something; then she looks up at me.

"I have always been afraid of you. You were right about that. I still am. But in these years at the Keep, while you were often hateful to me, I came to believe that you wouldn't let harm come to me."

My gaze transfixes on her. As I feel my heart starting to pound, my guard comes up and my mouth turns hard.

"Maybe you were wise about fearing me. What makes you think that_ I_ won't harm you?"

I lean down and while her face loses some colour, she keeps looking at me with determination.

"I had time to reflect on some things. I remembered the riot, when you saved me from the three men. After killing them, you could easily have... have done the same thing that they wanted to do to me, and killed me too; you could have claimed to have found me like that, and nobody would have known that you had done it. But you _didn't._ You brought me back safe to the castle. At the Keep, you could have hurt me, and who would have believed me? I had nobody to protect me... except you."

_So unexpected..._ While I had wished for these words, hearing them now feels very unsettling, turning my world upside down. Instinctively, I mistrust this.

She continues "So, I wanted to ... to thank you for today." Colour flushes her cheeks and she lowers her gaze down. "For not taking advantage of me. This was very gallant of you."

I snort in contempt. "Foolish little bird, seeing me now as a gallant knight like in the songs; still covering everything in pretty words and meaningless courtesy without understanding anything."

"No!" She raises her head and looks at me defiantly. "I don't believe in the songs and knights the same way I did before, but I still believe in some things. And courtesy is not meaningless; I was brought up to have good manners; it shows concern and consideration to others. This won't change. This is what I am, so I ask you to stop scolding me about it_, ser_."

She looks so solemn and full of dignity that I cannot help but chuckle. "I'll try if you stop calling me that. I'm no _ser,_ as I've said many times, and even less now that I've ditched the cloak."

"What do you want me to call you then?"

"I don't care, as long as it's not _ser or lord._"

"Well, I certainly won't call you dog or Hound, Sandor."

It's been a while since I've been called by my first name, the name of my childhood; I've been the Hound for such a long time now and while it takes me back to a time that I would prefer to forget, I like the soft inflection that it has on her voice. Before I have time to stop myself, I blurt out "I... shouldn't have had these suspicions about you last night."

She inclines her head graciously. "Thank you. I can understand you being mistrustful about my intent. All the plotting and intrigues at that court, all these lies, making people appear not as they seem."

Something soft shines from her eyes: gratefulness and _that damned innocence again._ I move uncomfortably on the bench and to give me something to do, I remove her jewelry pouch from a pocket and give it to her. She gasps in surprise.

"My jewels! How did you get them?"

"Your room was searched thoroughly. When we finished, I stayed behind and pocketed them."

"Thank you so much!" Her face is glowing with joy; then she sighs. "I could keep a few pieces and give you the rest, as a token of my gratitude. Take those that you want."

She extends the pouch to me. This makes me so angry that I almost slap it away. I let out a growl and she shrinks further away on the bench. "I don't need your jewels or any _token_ from you! Maybe you think that I have nothing now that I've left my post behind? Well, you're wrong. I have money of my own."

An expression of puzzlement crosses her face. "How can that be?"

"_How can that be_?" I repeat mockingly. "Did you think that only the highborn have money or wealth?"

She blushes at that. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean any insult..."

"Stop that!" I bite back. "You make me dizzy with your _courtesy._ I've worked for the Lannister House since I was twelve years old. They're rich and pay well. I also have won many fat purses in tournaments. I have accumulated gold for a long time. I invested it with a Free City bank, the same one that comes once a year for a visit with the council. Since then I've given them some more on each visit. And it has grown."

She looks impressed enough, and an expression of wonderment fills her eyes. "I never knew of those things." she says. But then her expression changes and a frown appears on her smooth forehead. "But... I remember you saying that you didn't care for titles, lands or gold."

I laugh again. "Well, _I_ _lied_. I still don't care for titles and such. I only did it so that someday, if I wanted to be my own dog, I could. Even a savage chained dog thinks about freedom sometimes."

She looks totally bewildered now, her mouth opened in a round shape. _Well, that's a new lesson for you, little bird. Everybody can lie, even those that claim that they are honest and that they hate liars. And I lied for you too, remember?_

Then she looks disappointed, like she's been betrayed. She should have known better than to take literally what a person says and believe every word. _What a child she is..._ I feel my jaw setting.

"You should be happy now, instead of pulling a long face. You won't have to worry about being _poor._ You'll do well with me. I have enough money to keep you in the way that you're accustomed to."

She gasps at this and gets up abruptly from the bench, looking at me with red cheeks and a fury making her small bosom heave.

"How dare you! I won't be a kept mistress or consort, Sandor Clegane! You forget yourself!"she exclaims indignantly.

The anger creeps on my face like a hot breeze, and I get up too, poking a hard finger at her shoulder. "You're hardly my mistress, aren't you now? And you've been kept all of your life by someone: your father, the Lannisters and Baratheons. From where do you think all the gowns, jewels and food came from? From money!"

"It's not the same!"

"You know nothing! So go sell your jewels at the next harbor and be on your way then! You'll see how long you last with only your fucking pride, _my lady,_ and when you need rescuing again, I won't be there!"

She blanches at the curse word. "You, you're such a foul mouthed brute! A barbarian!"

"_This is what I am_." I mimic derisively. "So get used to it."

I grasp her arm and point at the cabins, snarling now. "Now, enough! Go in the cabin immediately, and there will be hell to pay if I see you go outside alone on the deck again. NOW!"

She pushes at my hand and can't escape fast enough from me. She literally runs, and I'm sure that once she gets in the room that she'll fling herself on the bed and sob her little heart out. _Well, let her, I don't care. _I'm too angry at her, at the haughty way that she's treated me; _the highborn lady._ What use will her title and rank be in strange land where nobody knows her family?

I hear some sniggers coming from behind me, and when I turn around furiously, they stop immediately and I only see men with seemingly innocent faces. _Well, you'll get your due too; you bunch of fucking miserable rats._

The next days pass without incident. I'm keeping busy with learning about the ship and its workings. I have followed the captain, keeping at his side, observing and learning. I've settled already a few disputes between the men, and I can feel the resentment in some of them building up against me. _Good. I can't wait for one of them to start something._

The lady has kept her distance from me, giving me the silent treatment and only saying the necessary words for basic communication, always in the_ most polite way_, of course. Everything time that she seems me, she gets that haughty look on her face, her bearing full of poise and her gaze looking at a far point beyond me, her pretty nose up in the air_._

This puzzles me, this sulking. I'm more used to dealing with men, to the way we can say what's on our minds without having the worry of stepping on some _delicate _feelings. Her behavior somehow amuses me, and in a strange way moves me, as her dignity and breeding are the only things that she has left to protect her very real vulnerability.

In the late afternoon, as I come near the cabins, I spy her sitting down on the top of the stairway. It's not the first time that it has happened, as I've caught sight of her perching there on several occasions, gazing at the horizon and the activities on the ship. Although this is a restricted area for the crew, I still don't like her to be there in full view of the men, but I can't bear to order her shut in the cabin all day, so I haven't said anything in spite of my misgivings.

She gets up as she sees me and joins me at the bottom of the stairs. I raise my eyebrows questioningly at her. She hesitates, biting her bottom lip, then lowers her head and when she gazes at me again, I can see what it's costing her pride to have to ask me for anything.

"It's just that I wanted... If it's not too much bother for you, I'd like to have a tour of the ship, a visit." Then she sighs with relief at having said it.

I frown at her in puzzlement. "A visit of the ship? What is there to visit? If you want to walk around on the deck, I can take you."

"No. I meant visit the lower level, down these stairs."

I shake my head in exasperated disbelief. "Of all the foolish things! This is the last place that you'd want to see!"

"But why?" She looks more bewildered.

I lower my head very close to her face and put my hands on her shoulders. My mouth is twitching as I speak. "I'd have a mind to take you there to teach you about reality, you ignorant little fool. But it's too dangerous. Don't you know anything? That level is called the hold. It's where the cargo and animals are and the crew bunks there too. It smells like shit down there, but I'm sure that the men would love to have you visit. Still want to go?"

She pushes at my hands and I let her go. A deep flush of humiliation has covered her pale skin and tears are starting to escape from her eyes. She turns her head away and sniffles, her chin trembling. _Oh no, not again!_ I gnash my teeth in frustration. _Of course she didn't know, you bloody oaf!_ Why do I never remember how sheltered a life she has led as a highborn girl in that godforsaken castle of hers? And also being a prisoner at the Keep, and now here... That's quite a lot of cages for a bird.

She turns to go up the stairs but I grab her wrist.

"Never mind that, little bird. At least you had the sense to ask me before you tried it on your own. Come now."

"No!"

"But Thoren has told me that he wants to show you things that might interest you." There I am, coaxing her in the tone a voice that is used for children, but it works. Her face has lit up, and as I steer her in the direction of Thoren's cabin, she follows slowly but willingly enough.

We've been having supper at the captain's quarters since the beginning, and I think that these moments have been enjoyable for her too. Thoren is a good storyteller, full of incredible tales about his travels, and _he's_ always in a good mood.

After the cabin boy has brought our meal from the galley, I spy something different on the table; a small round vessel, with a curved spout and a little cover with a rounded piece welded at the top. It's in dark grey cast iron, lavishly decorated with raised curlicues on its surface. Steam is coming out of the spout.

"What is this?" I've never seen something like it.

"It's a container for a special beverage. It's for the lady to try."

He smiles at Sansa, pouring hot amber liquid in her cup and offering it to her. "Be careful though, it's very hot."

Taking it gingerly in her two hands, she breathes in first, an expression of delight lighting up her features, and takes a careful sip, and then another. "This is so good, captain! What is it?"

Thoren is beaming with pleasure. "It's called tea, my lady. Very common in the East, with many different blends to choose from. This one is a mix of herbs and spices, brewed in boiling water."

"Oh! Thank you so much captain."

She gives him one of her rare smiles and I can see that it has an effect on him too. He's grinning like a fool and I feel resentful because he was the one able to illicit the smile from her, while I had stubbornly pushed the sour red wine at her every night even though she didn't enjoy it. Raising a questioning eyebrow at her, I extend my hand to grab her cup and she nods politely. I take the cup and gulp the rest of it in a single swallow, grimacing at the taste of it.

"Gods! This tastes fucking bitter, like a healer's potion. Well, you keep it all to yourself, _my lady._ I'll stick to the wine."

When we are finished, she wonders about what we do after I take her upstairs. I shrug.

"We gamble and drink. What else is there to do on a ship? Want to try?"

Thoren's eyes go round at my offer, but Sansa declines politely, as if I had been offering something suitable to do, like needlework. Somehow I feel like having been put in my place again.

The cabin boy comes to take our dishes away, and then Thoren gets up, rummages through a drawer and brings back books and maps on the table, in front of her. These are beautiful detailed maps of different areas of the world, and the books about ships, of course.

"These may intrigue you. You can settle on that sofa, near the lamp, while we play."

I've seen a spot of red appear on her cheeks for a moment while cradling the books about ships. Well, now _she'll learn_ something. The she settles contently on the divan, absorbed in them and drinking that tea of hers. We settle for the games, goading each other, sharing insults and whooping. Once in a while she looks up curiously, watching the progression of the play, keeping her poise throughout all the swearing. She doesn't even blink at it and I'm puzzled at this; she had been so incensed days ago at my _foul_ language. _I'll never understand this girl. _

And it feels strange having her there with us. It's so different from what I've known; yes there were women present while we sometimes played in a room reserved for gambling at the brothel, but these were whores and I would have a naked one sitting on my knee. No little ladies reading were ever there. And although we drink all night, I drink a lot less than before, strangely not feeling the need for more.

This life is so new that I often feel like I'm walking in a dream and will wake up as usual in my room at the Keep. It's so much simpler with no intrigues, no highborns to give orders to me, no more of these fucking knights; I just have to obey the captain. No more _falsehoods._ These sailors have neither time nor the inclination to try to be anything than what they are: a bunch of brutes and hard men who love the sea. The anger that I've felt for so long doesn't flare up as often as before, and while it's still there, it is quieter.

Then one morning I get up with a sense of unease similar to the one that I had on the day of the escape. This time I'm not questioning it or gnawing at it. _Look what happened at the end of that day... _I trust it and try to be prepared for anything...

It doesn't take all day like the other time. As I'm looking on the trimming of the sails, I hear a faint scream from the foremast, almost lost in the groans and moans of the moving ship. The hair on the back of my neck rises, and I move fast in the direction of the sound. I hear it again, stronger and clearer this time, recognizing a certain very feminine, very familiar voice _calling my name. _

_Sansa!_ This galvanises me and I run as fast as I can to the distant spot, where I spy two figures struggling near the stairs to the hold: one, an ugly tall skinny brute, the worst that I had sensed in the lot, trying to drag down a terrified and struggling copper haired girl down these stairs to the hold that she had wanted so much _to visit._

If I had been the only one getting there, I would have wrenched him off easily from her, but unfortunately, the screams have attracted the attention of others too, whose footsteps I hear pounding behind me.

The commotion spooks the man dragging Sansa, making him change his intent. In a fast moment, he snakes an arm around her and points a knife at her throat.

That stops me dead in my tracts, and so it does to the others behind me. In that eternity of a moment where everybody is immobilised in their stances, I feel my heart hammer and a stab of guilt pierces my belly. _Seven Hells, that's not what I meant when I wished for a fight or an attack. I wanted somebody to try to attack me, not her!_

Then movement resumes. The lady is panting and whimpering, her eyes rounded in terror, while the arm that points at her throat is trembling, his crazed eyes bugging out of their orbits. _Not good, not good, a madman. _I can feel the waves of instability rising off him like steam from boiling water.

"Don't go any further, dog! Don't you or any of the others come any closer, or I'll kill her!"

He's yelling so hard that the cords on his taut neck stand out. I turn around swiftly, facing the small crowd of men.

"Stand back, do you hear? Stand BACK!"

My face must have looked crazed too, as they almost trip on top of one another in their haste to backtrack. I spot the young black skinned one that looks like a bit better than the rest of them, and beckon at him.

"You, come here. Now! Stand beside me."

He comes reluctantly at first, but becomes surer footed after a few steps. _Good, he has some courage._ I signal him next to me, and then turn around, my knees slightly bent, a growl in my throat. The madman laughs hysterically at this.

"You chose the black pup! Pity you, needing his help!"

"Let the girl go and fight me like a real man, you piece of shit!" I'm snarling now.

"Oh no! I've got your little prize now and won't let it go! You should have guarded her better! Go on about your business, and maybe I won't kill her."

"In hell I will."

"Before you go, remove your weapons and let them drop on the deck, gently now. DO IT!"

He slides the edge of the knife against her skin, drawing blood. She sobs. I growl with pure hatred. Every muscle in my being is urging me to jump on him right now, but I know that I'll never be fast enough to stop him from slitting her throat. I have to stay calm and keep my mind clear, as I feel that this situation will explode in a few moments anyway and all will be lost if I don't keep control of myself.

I unsheathe the dagger slowly, showing it to him and dropping it on the deck, giving it a kick so it slides away from me, then I do the same with both my sword and longsword. I let my arms rest easily against my side, and watch his eyes. It's where I learned to look to find out the moment when an opponent would decide to act, whatever decision he had chosen. Something leaps in them, and I stomp my boot heavily on my young's companion foot. He let out a mighty yell of pain, and this distracts the madman's attention for a second, loosening his hold on the knife. _A little second is all I need. _In a flashI whip out my hidden knife and hurl it at him, right in the spot between his eyes, where the blade buries itself in a satisfyingly cracking wet sound. His hand opens, his knife clattering on the deck and he drops like a sack of stones, unfortunately dragging Sansa in his fall with him.

I'm immediately besides her, getting on my knees and dragging her away from his carcass. She's sobbing hard now. I signal to the black one to come and stay at her side. As I get up again, I lift the dead man at the top of my arms and throw him in the waiting crowd, which recoils amusingly in panic. The blood lust goes to my head and I laugh wildly. The men are paralyzed on the deck; their eyes wide open with shock.

"Now, is there anyone else who would like to take my prize from me? No? Anyone else tries, I'll come to him while he sleeps and rip his fucking eyes out."

The captain chooses this moment to appear. I'm glad that he didn't interfere, as this would have weakened my position considerably. He swaggers to my side, face split into a big grin, and claps my back.

"Well, well, it seems that there was a little excitement, eh? Be warned the lot of you to leave this girl alone. The dog has spoken. Now, back to work, enough time has been lost! And get rid of that corpse!"

The men scatter back to their position, and the black one, in spite of the pain I've inflicted on him looks at me in awe. I bend down to retrieve my weapons on the deck, and I hear a something splash in the water. _Good riddance._ I get up and walk in the direction of Sansa, squat down lift her on my shoulder and carry her back to our cabin, dropping her gently on the divan. She stills breathes rapidly, but has stopped crying; she seems calmer. I kneel down to check if she has any other cut than the one at her throat. Although the blood lust has left me, I'm still angry, but for a completely different matter, and she must feel it as she shrinks from me, her eyes huge as they stare at me.

"Now you little fool, why didn't you listen to me and stayed in that damn cabin, like I had bid you?"

"Stop shouting and being rude to me!" she snaps back with a surprising spark of spirit.

"You're very lucky that it's only me shouting at you at the moment. That man would have done things a lot worse than my being _rude_ to you. Don't you know anything?"

Her face crumples and she buries her face on the arm of the divan, sobbing wildly. _Now you did it again dog. But she has to face reality! _I know that I have to let her spend herself, and go get a clean piece of cloth, tearing it up in two. I soak one with wine and the other with water. Coming back to the sitting room, I find her folded in a miserable huddle in the corner of the divan, looking so small and vulnerable that I feel a lump forming in my throat. I extend a hand to touch her shaking shoulder, but she shrugs it off angrily.

"Leave me alone, you beast ... you _dog_! Go away!"

I sit down heavily next to her, putting a hand on her small back.

"Now, now little bird. I've the right to be angry, as you put yourself into danger. What if I hadn't come at the right moment? How can I keep you safe if you don't follow my biding?"

She turns around, her face wet, and surprising me, buries it in my chest, letting out a few shuddering breaths. I lift her up and cradle her against me like a child.

"I know that this feels like another cage to you, but you'll have to be patient for a while yet; this won't last forever, a month or so, until we arrive at Volantis. Then I'll buy you something to occupy yourself and some new garments, more suitable than these. We'll get rid of most of this present crew and hire better men. Even then, it will still be dangerous. This is a freighter, not a passenger ship."

"I'm sorry," she murmurs against my chest. "It was unwise of me to disobey. I only did it to defy you, because I was angry at you."

I sigh and rest my cheek briefly against the top of her head. "Don't be sorry girl, just let this be a lesson and do differently next time, whatever you feel. It's what we soldiers do. We obey despite our feelings, because we trust our leader."

I straighten her up and use the cloth to wash the tears off her face, and let her blow her nose in it. Then I examine the cut at her throat. Fortunately, it is not deep, but it still pains me to see it. I blot it carefully, and then press the wine soaked cloth on it for a moment. She stiffens at the sting, and realising that she's sitting on my lap, she blushes and gets off fast to retreat back to her corner. I laugh. She's struggling hard to regain her composure, and lifts her chin defiantly.

"It's just that I'd like to be able to take walks."

"You can. I only specified not going out _alone. _I can take you outside every day. Is that agreed?"

"Yes, I promise."

"Good. I don't want to have to kill off all of the crew."

She lets out a small giggle, and then looks mortified.

"I shouldn't have laughed! What am I doing?"

"Laugh while you can little bird. You've cried enough."

And for the first time, we both laugh together.

I've found out soon enough that his recent attack has had an effect on her, probably bringing back all the bad memories of King's Landing. She seems more subdued and has refused to take walks on the deck; even not appearing on her usual perch on the stairway. She leaves right after our supper with the captain to retire in her room. She's got again that overcautious way of moving that she had at King's Landing, and sometimes I think that I hear sniffs coming from her room. I can't undo what has been done and this makes my mood darker. I let the men know it, glowering at them as I make my rounds.

In the third night after the event, I open my eyes, suddenly feeling wide awake. There's a strange feeling of stillness in the cabin, a deep silence that can only happen after a scream has shattered it. My door is closed. Alarm springs up in me and I get up right away, hurriedly taking the dagger with me and opening the door cautiously.

Light is flickering in the sitting room from a candle in the wall sconce. I find her sitting huddled on the divan, rocking with her knees brought up under her chin. She startles as she spies me and I approach slowly, sheathing the dagger and stuffing it in a pocket. I squat in front of her as to appear less threatening.

Knowing better than to do something, I let a few moments pass so she can get used to my presence.

"What are you doing there in the middle of the night?" My question has come out sterner than I had wished.

Her eyes are big as she looks up at me and she tightens the grip on her legs." I... I had a nightmare and couldn't stay in my room. I'm sorry if I disturbed you."

_Will she ever stop making amends?_ I stifle a sigh of impatience, as this is not what is needed at the moment. I try to use a gentle tone of voice. "I woke up anyway, but it's not your fault. It's in my nature; my instincts alert me to the slightest change or sound."

She looks less tense now and sighs.

"Anybody can have a nightmare; even I."

"Oh." She seems amazed at this and it makes a smile tug at the corners of my mouth.

"This man won't ever try to hurt you again. He's dead, and the fish have had their feast with him."

I get up and extend a hand to her. She shrinks back.

"I'm bringing you in my room. Sometimes it's better not to be alone."

She swings her head from side to side in a wild refusal, and I take a deep breath. "Girl, you have nothing to fear from me in the chamber. You're safe with me. I'll leave the candle burning here."

I hold out my hand again, and after a few moments of uncertainty, she unfolds finally and takes my hand to help her get up. I lift her up and carry her to my chamber.

I lay her down on the bed and bring the coverings up. I hand the scabbard at the head of the bed on my side, and when I slide in the bed, I feel her stiffen at the closeness. I don't move for minutes, letting the moment pass, letting her grow accustomed to it. I _do know_ about wild, untamed and scared animals. Then I turn on my side, presenting her my back, so it will feel safer for her.

"Sleep now."

It takes a while for her to move, and then I feel her come closer; feel small hands and a warm breath against my back. After another long moment, an arm comes to rest on my side, encircling my waist. I don't dare to move, lest she removes it. From her deep, regular breathing I know that she's asleep, and I too fall asleep like this, oddly comforted too.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter VI**

**Sandor**

As I gaze at the sunrise, leaning on the railing, I don't feel as settled as I usually do in the morning. I enjoy these moments of peace and quiet, when the world seems new, but not today; for some reason I have woken up in a bad mood from some unpleasant dream that I don't remember.

I'm remembering when we first came at Winterfell, that bleak, cold and barren place. That was when it happened, when my life started to tip over and the madness awoke in me.

_The trip to Winterfell had been long and arduous, the weather deteriorating and getting colder the further north we progressed. The royal family and the knights had complained all the time about the numerous discomforts of the trip, and when we finally arrived there, everybody as exhausted. Except for King Robert, who was excited at the imminent meeting with his friend Lord Eddard Stark, who he had not seen for eleven years._

_As people gathered in the courtyard, our party facing the Starks, I looked on in disinterest at the King and the queen greeting each member of the Stark House, and my eyes were drawn to this girl. She stood out from the rest of her family, like a burst of colours in the middle more subtle tones. She looked like a northern vision with her long fiery hair, shining like newly minted copper, pale skin and features so pure that they could make the snow melt with tenderness. I ceased to see the others. I felt a painful twinge in my chest, making my heart thud while my face kept its impassive soldier's expression. She looked in our direction and smiled at him, my boy prince. He was pretty indeed, with that blonde hair and refined features. He smiled back. She glowed. She was already taken with him! Then she finally saw me; all the colours left her face and she lost the smile. She hastily averted her gaze away. I turned my head, my mouth twitching; my hands felt strangely empty and I clenched them in tight fists at my sides. I vowed that I would make her look at me._

_Just before the trip back to King's Landing, I took my opportunity when she bumped into ser Illyn in the courtyard. She was standing still before him, clearly terrified by his merciless face and fixed gaze. Coming from behind her, I gripped her slight shoulders firmly. She was trembling like a leaf. When she turned about to see who it was, she startled and shrank back from me. I laughed. Then Joff came, and she brightened like the sun at midday. Joff chased me away, saying that I was frightening his lady, and I had to bow out like an obedient dog._

_On our way back to King's Landing, I noticed that she did everything to avoid looking in my direction. While I was more or less used to people behaving like this with me, I couldn't accept it of her. I had foolishly thought that having been granted the sight of something so beautiful and innocent was a gift, and having been robbed of it immediately made me very angry and bitterer than ever. I knew that I should let go of this but I had fallen under some kind of spell and had already lost all reason._

_After the tournament, while I was escorting her to her chamber, in a fit of fury I stopped suddenly in the field that we were crossing and squatted down in front of her. With the torch held between us, I had forced her to look closely at my face and she had cried. Then I had felt the impulse to tell her of my deepest secret, of where my burns had come from; I had tried to get her to really see me behind the horrendous scars, so she could understand what had made me the way I was, that I wasn't a monster, but she didn't understand and gave me pretty, empty words. I had gotten so angry that I threatened to kill her if she repeated what I had told her._

_When events had turned for the Stark House, Lord Stark being condemned from treachery and executed, she became a hostage and a favourite target for Joffrey's growing cruelty. He had forced her to look at her father's head on a spike, and taunted her cruelly with what he would do to her brother when his armies defeated him. She had reacted with spirit, and Joffrey had ordered ser Meryn to slap her face. I had to turn my head away, unable to tolerate the sight of it but forced to hear the sound of the hard smacks against that delicate skin. Then, when she had walked resolutely on the walkway toward Joffrey, I had divined her intent and only my swift response had stopped her from pushing him off it. _

_Joffrey's back had been turned, so he hadn't known what she had tried to do, and I never said anything to him about her attempt on his life, which would have been punishable by death for her. Afterward, my hand had trembled when I blotted the blood off from her cut lip. _

_From then on I tried act like a wall between the King and his betrothed to spare her from some of his brutality. I knew that except for his mother the queen that I was the only person having some influence over him and that he trusted me. I also kept a discrete watch on her, often following her when she wandered alone. I even lied at the tournament on King's Joffrey's nameday. Joffrey, being displeased by that drunkard ser Dontos, had him tortured. Foolish, kind Sansa Stark had wanted it stopped. The King had looked at her with quiet menace, and she probably had said the first thing that had come into her head, saying that "it was bad luck to kill somebody on his nameday." From the expression of contempt on Joffrey's face, I knew that he didn't believe her, and that he would have her pay dearly for the lie. I had immediately replied that she had said the truth, "that what a man sows on his nameday, he reaps all year long." Joffrey had the torture stopped immediately and I blew out a sigh of relief._

_Afterward, she started secret meetings with Dontos in the godswood; I had figured out that this was probably about a foolish plan for an escape, and I had kept silent about these meetings, not telling my liege about them even after I had caught her returning from one of them. _

_Even after that, she was still scared of me and wouldn't look at me unless I forced her to. She barely tolerated my presence! And through all of it, she was gentle and sweet to everybody, to all of those who meant her harm - except to me. Something lost its mooring in me then. I thought fine, as I'm already guilty of it, I'll give you reasons to be really scared of me. So I spewed out my anger and spite at her whenever we encountered each other alone, intimidating her, acting threateningly, often mocking her good manners, her little girl's illusions and foolish dreams. _

_At the same time, I still couldn't stand to see harm come to her. I had lost my boundaries with her; when she hurt, I hurt too; I couldn't tolerate the sight of her pain. _

_At the bread riot, nobody had thought of her welfare, forgetting all about her, and as soon as the King was safely in the hands of the kingsguard, the first thought that came into my head was to fight my way through the mob to find her before she fell into their hands. Upon our return to the Keep, I had worried about the bleeding cut on her head while being careless about my own cuts. _

_On our last encounter alone at the Keep, I had spied her wandering again in the halls and had followed her silently. She had walked up the turnpike stairs to the roof, and once up on the rooftop, had started to sway near the edge, and I had grabbed her arm and steadied her, thinking that she had wanted to jump. When I turned her around to face me, she flinched at the sight of my face, lied about fearing me and I had gotten very, very angry and had said deliberately cruel things to her. _

_Insidiously, a poison created by these warring feelings started to seep in more and more parts of my life; my distractions becoming stale and being robbed of their usual enjoyments; getting sick to death of the contacts with the knights of the kingsguard; questioning my purpose in serving and protecting a King that I had grown to despise, my decreasing loyalty to him; anticipating with dread the coming war that was to be fought with fire. The weather had been bad too during this autumn; days and days of cold rain wrapped in a grey mist that reflected the state of my mind. _

Later on in the morning, as I stride on the deck and work at my duties, I feel satisfied at the change in the crew's attitude toward me. Since the night when I killed off her attacker, the tougher ones look at me with new respect, and the softer ones with fear. While I'm no seasoned sailor yet, I've learned fast and I'm able to spot what is needed to be done. My orders are accepted and my questions are answered without resentment. I start to think that the ship will run better from now on.

In the late afternoon, I take out the pretty bird for air, and we walk for a bit around the deck. Nobody looks at her. _Good._ She's silent and contemplative, looking as always as she is on a journey of her own, and I would really like to get into that head and _know_ her thoughts. The Winterfell and King Landing's memories have kept shadowing me all day, leaving a taste of burnt ashes in my mouth. As we take a pause on the bench, I look at her with a smirk. It causes her to shrink back from me.

"Although you're _too polite_ to complain, I'm sure that this journey at sea must be rough for you, with these simple clothes and food, and no servants to fuss around you."

She looks genuinely surprised. "No, I don't miss these things. I feel content. Why do you ask?" _Seven Hells,_ _she's so naive._

"Because I've seen the sad look that you sometimes have in your eyes." Now that I'm nearing to what I want to say, I cannot keep the venom out of my voice. "You must miss the fancy life at court; having regrets now about leaving your beloved King."

"What?" She looks bewildered. "Why would you say that? You know that I hate him!"

"I'm not so sure about that." Now I'm starting to growl. "You loved him in the beginning, and still seemed to love him at some moments, being sweet to him and all that."

"Because that's what you advised me to do!" Her cheeks are starting to flush hotly. "You told me to give him what he wanted, and I did it! I tried to hide my real feelings from him, obeyed his wishes so he wouldn't have me beaten and tried to behave lovingly to him."

"Well, you were pretty convincing. This was no lie. Even I believed it."

She gets up abruptly and goes to stand in front of me, her small frame shaking from rage. Then she leans down and slaps me hard across the face, shocking me to the core. I can't move, looking at her while she straightens up with an angry and both sad expression on her face.

"I don't understand you! Nothing ever seems to satisfy you, nothing is ever good enough for you, however I speak or act. You always twist my words and turn them against me! Why did you help me if you dislike me so? You are always so unpleasant, so unkind, managing to spoil everything... you... you dog!"

I laugh bitterly. "Oh, the little bird is starting to grow claws."

"I'm not the empty headed little bird that you've always accused me of being! Stop calling me that. Birds are not stupid, and I love them."

I feel a queer twinge of pain near my heart. _So do I._

She moves as if she's going to leave, and then turns about, her chin trembling. "Do you really want to know why I look sad sometimes? Because I miss my father, my family; I don't know what's going to happen to them and I know that I'll never see them again. That's why! Are you satisfied now?"

I'm speechless for once, feeling a most unfamiliar urge to want to sink in that bench, feeling lower than the lowest of curs. _Shame..._

"In the future, if you have nothing pleasant to say, I wish that you'll keep silent." she adds with dignity.

Then she hurries back to the cabin, her copper hair flying in the breeze, leaving me still rooted to that fucking bench_._ I hear in my head a mocking echo of the king's voice._ Well done dog, well done!_

After a moment, I spy a pale piece of fabric on the deck. I bend to retrieve it and recognize it as one of the kerchiefs that she uses to cover her head. In her agitation, she lost it and hadn't realized that it had slipped from her hair. _Neither had I._ I bring it to my face and inhale deeply of it. Then I look at the closed door of our quarters and put it back in a pocket.

I know that tonight there will be no shared meal with the captain. She'll probably ask the cabin boy to bring her something to eat. And I don't feel like eating at all.

Feeling out of sorts, I pace on the deck ceaselessly. I'd really like for any of the men to give me a wrong look, to say something that would give me an excuse to shout, to fight; but they know my moods now and give me a wide berth as I come near each one of them where he works. I end up at the bow, leaning against the railing. With only water surrounding our vessel, I feel so confined on this ship. I cannot leave it and go someplace, roaming in city streets, looking for trouble or practicing jousting with straw dummies until my arm has no strength anymore and all my anger has been exhausted. I'm gazing angrily at the sun that is starting its descent in the sea, staining the waves red.

Red as blood, red as wine... I get two flagons of wine and descend below decks, sitting on the last step of the stairway. Torches have been lighted, bathing in a yellow flickering yellow haze the off duty men who are sitting in little groups on their deck, some playing dice, some just staring off in space, and Booka, the young black skinned one, playing with a strange little instrument that he moves on his lips while he blows thought it. From this come out reedy notes of a haunting nature that suit my mood. I uncork the first flagon and drink from it, swallowing without stop until it becomes lighter. A great surge of warmth flows though my body, bringing a blessed loosening of my muscles, of relief.

It's then that I notice the sudden silence. The men have stopped what they were doing and are all looking at me with guarded eyes. I raise a hand.

"Don't stop on my account. I'm not here on an official capacity. I'm one of yours tonight."

This puzzles them, as I've never done this before, and some of them resume their play. I jerk my head at Booka.

"What is that instrument?"

"A harmonica."

"Play some more. I like it."

He starts another piece, and each one that follows gets darker. They could be suited to a foreign burial and I wonder what kind of singing could accompany it. _Wailings in a broken voice..._ I get up from the step and come closer, offering the second flagon of wine. When it is accepted, I sit down on the deck, with my legs bended at the knees and my back leaning against the wall, and continue watching, listening and drinking from the remaining flagon. When it becomes empty, I fling it carelessly overboard.

When Booka hears the splash, he stops playing and looks up at me with a question in his eyes. My teeth clench automatically.

"What?"

"Lord Hound, you look like a man who needs something stronger than wine."

I sigh impatiently. _Another one who insists on giving me a stupid title._ But I decide not to let this bother me anymore. Why should I fucking care what others want to call me? I know who and what I am.

"Like what? Nothing is stronger than red sour wine."

"You don't know everything. Come see."

Now that is intriguing. I get up, finding that my legs are getting a bit unsteady, and follow him in the hold, having to bend to go through the short doorway. He guides me in the crew quarters, which are separated from the cargo hold by big white sheets of coarse cotton, and goes to rummage in a cupboard. He brings out vessel of some kind of dragon glass with strange colourful markings, and puts it on a table with a small cup. With a flourish, he pours some golden brown liquid in it, and offers it to me with a big grin. I take it hesitantly and sniff of it. It smells very strong, with a strange burned sweetish note.

I look at him dubitatively. "Not much of it in there, is it?"

"It's much stronger than wine. That's spirits drink called rum, Lord Hound. It comes from where I was born, the Summer Isles. Be careful."

I bark dismissively and swallow a big mouthful, and as soon as it's going down, I feel like I've been engulfed by liquid fire. My throat burns, making me cough and sputter so bad that I think that I'll choke. Booka has burst into great gales of laughter. When I regain my breath, I whistle in appreciation.

"Fucking hell, that's strong stuff! Give me more!"

He pours out more, shaking his head at me in good natured admonition. The other men come in and soon, everybody has their little cups brimming with the stuff. The men bring out a large and thick board of wood which they lean against a wall. They mark down straight lines and circles on it with chalk, and we start a contest with knife throwing on these targets, wagering copper coins. With my deathly accuracy, which remains even in my increasingly inebriated state, I win every time, soon ending with my coin pouch bulging, which I give back in return for their hospitality.

I find that I have a very hard time ascending the stairway, and I have to rest at the top to regain some strength. The cabins look very far away and crooked, making me laugh wildly. Each footstep feels like my boot is sinking through the heaving deck, and I'm reeling, walking sideways like a fucking crab. I wonder if I'm going to be able to reach the cabins, as my legs feel like very soft wool and I stumble every five steps. Hells, I think that I've never been so drunk in my life.

When I reach my goal, I decide that I'll never be able to go up the stairs to our cabins, and I don't think that I want to in this state. So I knock loudly on the captain's door, still laughing, and he opens it after a moment, an inquiring look in his eyes. But when he sees me barely able to stand up, he understands immediately and guides me to the divan, on which I sink on my back like a big falling log. I look up at him with bleary eyes, my laughter turning soon in sobbing.

"Thoren, I'm no good," I say thickly in a very raspy voice. "No good at peace, no good with birds; only good for battles and swords."

He sighs tiredly. "You're right dog. You're really out of your depth."

As much as my mind is getting muddled, this still manages to worry me. I try to raise my head.

"What do you... mean? No good on the ship?"

The head that he's shaking now is getting so much bigger and blurry. "No, that's not what I meant."

I'll never know what he meant, as suddenly everything turns black, and I feel and hear nothing anymore.


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER VII**

**Thoren**

Before retiring to my bed, I look at Sandor Clegane, sprawled on the divan and dead to the world. He's going to suffer a lot when he wakes up in the morning. The hair that he combs over his burned side is in disarray, revealing in pitiless sight the hairless and scarred flesh, the twisted stump of an ear.

We're so different, him and I... I've always been merry and carefree, and he's always had that dark cloud hanging over him. Even more now, it seems, despite having left the corrupted Red Keep. And so reckless and imprudent, pushing the limits like he were courting death and defying the Gods...

And this girl that he brought here, this delicate and frail little lady, so out of place everywhere except in a castle; she who had been so alone that the only protector that she'd managed to attract was the Hound. Now she has the hard task of taming him, and I wonder who between the two of them is in the most in danger from the other...

But however fragile looking that she seems, she stands up to him; I have to give her that. I remember an incident that has happened not long ago. After having finished our supper, the Hound had started complaining and rambling angrily about knights. Her face had become flushed, and she had stood up suddenly, coming to stand near him. I could understand this subject being a sore spot for her. He had stopped speaking and had looked up with a sneer at the determined set to her mouth and eyes.

"Sandor, you and I are much more alike that I had realised."Her tone was clipped and cool. "You speak so often of knights that I'm thinking that you like them as much as I did in the past."

She had struck well, unfortunately for her. A great stillness came over him; then a tension and bunching up of muscles stiffening his body. He got up with eyes smoldering and a hard line to his mouth. She gasped as he advanced slowly on her, making her retreat until she was backed against the wall. Her blue eyes were huge with fright. He put up an arm on the wall on top of her head, trapping her there. He spoke in a low and raspy tone.

"I don't like it when you peep at me like this, little bird."

"Stop doing this, you're scaring me."

"You're scared of everything."

"I don't like it when you lean over me like this."

"Oh? Then I can arrange something else for you."

He got down on his knees in front her, raising his mocking face up to her.

"Oh great lady, you're so tall! Don't hurt me please, I'm scared!"

She was breathing fast. I saw her face get very red, and how one little fist was clenching hard, the knuckles turning white. He saw it too, and smiled grimly.

"Hit me then! What are you waiting for? I know that you want to do it."

"What would happen if I did it?"

"You'll have to do it to find out."

Then I saw the anger leave her. Her eyes were bleak as she looked down at him. "Yes, I'm a coward. And you like to scare me, even though we _both_ know very well that I'm no match against you, that I'll always be helpless before _your strength,_ Hound."

She had inclined her head gracefully. He had not expected this response and it had disarmed him. He had gotten up and I could see his teeth gnashing together as he had stood still for a moment, and then started to pace restlessly, like a dog that had lost the scent in the hunt. She took the opportunity to return near to the table, trembling slightly. I gave her a reassuring glance, and as if he had sensed this, he stood again in front of her, but more at a distance. His mouth was twitching.

"Remember the story that I had told you about Gregor, the wooden knight and the brazier? Well, there he was, taking these fucking sacred vows, and my father standing there beaming with pride, never saying a fucking word about what he had done to me. And everybody was welcoming him, this monster in a man's skin who had turned me into a monster too. They all knew that he had started to terrorise the people on our lands, the raids that he made on villages; but of course, these other bloody knights did it too, misusing their power. And they still made these lying songs about them, the ladies simpering about them, and the highborns never doing anything to stop the knights from preying on their own realm, because they fought for them, kept them safe and did their dirty work! And you, you believed these fucking lies too!"

After this, a great wave of silence had washed over us. With a last dark glance, he had gone out and slammed the door. There I finally knew the cause of his horrible burns, and I was shocked beyond words. That Gregor would do that to him... He had never told me or anybody else. Significant that he had only told it to this girl... No wonder he had left home on the day that his father had died. He had joined the Lannister camps, where I belonged too then, and I had felt a strange protective feeling for this angry, disfigured boy that most people steered clear of. Then he had started to be known as the Hound, his great skills at fighting building him fast a fearsome reputation. I had never felt afraid of him, as his hostility never managed to reach me, and I was a big Bear who was no natural enemy of his.

Coming back to myself, I had heard the lady crying softly by herself, and had taken her in my arms and patted her back reassuringly. She felt so slight and I had thought for a moment, that however improbable this could be, I would have liked a daughter like this, to cherish and protect, if I hadn't been an old crusty sea captain. While I didn't like at all how the Hound behaved with her, I didn't want to interfere, except in the case that he _would hurt her._ But I didn't think that he would; I had never seen him or heard of him mistreating whores.

"There, there, don't be afraid. I know that he won't hurt you, don't fret."

"It's not only that", she had said between sniffles. "I know that it's awful what happened to him, and it saddens me. But at the same time, I don't understand why he's always so angry with me. He must hate me."

"He doesn't hate you, my lady. He acts like this because you scare him. That's why he bites this bad."

She had looked astonished, her tears forgotten for the moment. "The Hound scared of me? This is madness."

"A man can be hurt by other means than by physical blows and swords. I cannot tell you more, as there are things that you have to find out for yourself, and I don't know what went on between both you since you met as to create this set of circumstances."

Afterward we had spoken of different things, the lady asking me questions about my travels and I complying happily. She had also told me about her life at Winterfell, but never about the one at the Red Keep. Then I had escorted her to their quarters, and seen that the door to his cabin was closed. He was probably simmering in his own juices.

Well, that outburst seemed to have done him some good, getting it out of his system, as he hasn't spoken of the knights again.

Unfortunately, I have also heard today's fight. I had come out to look for the Hound, and spying him and the lady sitting on the bench, I had approached, until I had started to hear what was being said and had preferred to remain unseen by him. I had hidden behind the side wall and heard everything. She, still being a naive and innocent maid, had not sensed a man's jealousy behind the words, and has defended herself uselessly against his accusations. Then I had heard the slap, and had chuckled quietly in my corner. I knew who had been hit. _Good..._ She had run to her quarters and he had stormed off too. I had returned unseen to my cabin, and had the cabin boy deliver supper to her quarters.

As if I had summoned her with my thoughts, I hear a timid knock on my door. I open it in a crack and see her standing there, covered and overwhelmed by his cloak. I get out through the small opening and close the door behind me, standing in front of her. She's looking up at me worriedly.

"I'm very sorry to disturb you Captain. Sandor has not come in yet and I wonder if you know where he is. I find it disquieting."

I smile reassuringly. "Not to worry, my lady. He's right there with me, though in no fit state for you to see."

She looks endearingly concerned, and I open up the door a bit, signaling her closer. She cocks her head sideways, and we both hear the rumbling snores coming out of the room. I see that she also smells the fumes from the wine and rum, and she wrinkles up her nose. I close the door tactfully.

"I'm afraid that he's had something to drink stronger than what he's used to. You'll see him on the morrow, although much worse for the wear. Don't fret about it. Let me take you to your quarters."

As I escort her up, I wonder about the people at the Red Keep. Here's the beautiful maiden in distress like in the songs that they love to hear and pretend that they believe in; one would think that people so refined and noble that they would crowd in to help her, and there's been only an uncouth warrior and a rough captain who have wanted to do it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter VIII**

**Sansa**

While I still feel sorrowful about my family that I've left behind, the sadness has retreated deeper in me, it's quieter for now. Also, I had felt the same things at the Red Keep, _I had known then that they were lost to me._ My father's execution had started a war, the hold on the Iron Throne had become unstable, attracting all the pretenders and jackals that had sniffed the weakness, and nothing would ever be the same again. I had a lot of time to grieve, and the rawness of it had left me.

And I don't miss anymore the rank that I had in Westeros; I know that I'm a lady and that I always will be regardless of circumstances. That's why I haven't let myself be bothered by all the cursing and swearing that goes on when the captain and the Hound play. I had thought at first that I wouldn't give Sandor the satisfaction of letting it touch me; then that a lady had to and _could_ arise above these things_._ And I had heard swearing before at King's Landing; a lot of the men swore, even the highborn sometimes did when they thought that no lady was present. And in a way, what does it matter? Some people speak in a more refined way but act a lot worse.

I find that I've enjoyed seeing Sandor gamble; he brings the same fierceness and sense of competition to the game, wanting to win and crush his opponent. The captain is more insouciant about winning or losing.

But just when I had thought that I could start to feel at ease with Sandor, he's started to act hatefully again, _insinuating_ things, mocking me, like in King's Landing. But this time I'm not sobbing my heart out on my pillow; I'm pacing in the cabin and huffing. When I get tired of it this, I sit down on the divan and find myself feeling calmer. As I sit I'm filled with disbelief at what I just did.

Somehow, without realising it or the why of it, I had lost my fear and revulsion of his disfigurement after the escape, but I still feared _him._ While he had never beaten me like the others, sometimes I feared that he would do it; thinking that the depth of his anger would lead to it. Now I feel wonder that I got angry and struck him in the face. Wrath as I had never known it had filled my entire being, and suddenly I didn't care anymore about what he would do; whether he would shout threateningly, beat me or even throw me overboard. At that moment, I was feeling so sick of being terrified all the time that it had burned the fear out of me.

At the Red Keep I had been trying very hard to please, to be good and nice so I wouldn't be mistreated, to say words which I had thought that they would want to hear from me, but what good had it accomplished? I was still beaten regularly and treated with scorn by the King and others. Today I have acted differently, finally daring to say exactly how I felt, and his reaction had been totally unexpected; instead of jumping on me like I had expected, his face had turned white, in sharp contrast with the red imprint of my hand left on his skin and I thought that I saw for a moment a spark of bewilderment in his eyes. He hadn't moved at all.

Yes, I had thought that he could be kind when he had comforted me after the attack and the nightmare, helping me by thinking that I would probably feel safer not sleeping alone. _And I had felt safer._ In the early morning, when I had found myself nestled against his back, and remembering who this was, it had shocked so that I had turned on my side fast, my heart thudding in my chest.

But after all this care on his part, I had not expected him to turn brooding again and lash out at me with his anger. But I should have known better: this is the way he's always been with me. Acts of kindness followed by a flood of anger. Except for the knights, I seem to be the one that he's always been the angriest at.

There must be a reason. Had I hurt him because I hadn't been able to bear looking at him in the face for so long? I know that this was something that he had wanted me to do and then had often reproached me for my being unable to do it. I haven't considered this before; being so afraid of him; my fear had overwhelmed any other thoughts or feelings I could have had. I had not considered that somebody this terrifying could be vulnerable like any other person, or that he was bothered by the look of his scars. I had even thought that he had enjoyed having them so that he could scare people even more. Was I wrong? If I had been, then indeed I had _hurt him deeply_.

While I'm sure that I'll eventually feel remorse at this, for the moment I'm experiencing satisfaction, a sense of retribution, and pride at being brave for once. And I realize that I don't even feel resentment at his words; I feel free of the sting of them!


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER IX**

**Sandor**

On the morning, I open one eye cautiously, and the light pierces it badly and I close it hurriedly. As the memories of last night come back, all of my body's discomforts wake up too. My face and body are covered in sweat, I have a disgusting taste in my mouth, my stomach is churning uneasily, but the worse is that terrible pain in my head that pulses in a regular hard beat, making me moan.

It takes me a long time to get up from that divan, testing each limb before moving it, my eyes squinting. When I finally sit upright, I feel something sloshing in my middle like a river, and I let out a deep liquid belch that brings up unpleasantly the taste of that sweet fucking drink. _Seven Hells, I'm glad that at least I had the common sense no to get up to our quarters last night and that she's not seeing me like this._ Then I hear a chuckle, and look up to find Thoren sitting at the table, watching me.

"Ah, you're up! I've seen corpses that looked better than you. They smelled better too."

"Fuck off!"

I get on my feet slowly and my world becomes quite unsteady. I grit my teeth against the dizziness, and when I feel stronger, I start to walk to the side door.

"If you have the need to take a piss, you'll have to do it over the railing, as I think that I'll be there for a while."

I drag my feet the whole way, which is short but feel far today. When I close the door to the privy, locking it, I find that fresh sweat has broken out on top of the old one, and my mouth is grimacing with suddenly acute nausea. I kneel down fast in front of the privy's hole, speaking to it loudly and very profusely for a long while. I'm surrounded by the taste and smell of the rum, sickening me even more. _This is agony._ _What did you drink like this on an empty stomach, you fucking fool?_ Never, ever am I going to drink that vile stuff again. I was right to mistrust sweet drinks. _Nothing is worth this._

When I'm done, I sit down against the wall, regaining my breath for a moment, putting a wet cloth on my forehead. After a while, I get up to begin the tiresome task of washing, wishing for a big bucket that I could lie in for a long moment... But I find it not so displeasing after all, feeling better and better as I rub the cool cloths against my hot skin, smell the clean scent of the soap. After I've dressed again in my britches, I think that I'm going to survive.

When I get back to the cabin, I find Thoren sitting down to breakfast, and I have to avert my nose from the smell of the food, as it makes my stomach roil again. He has another new strange container on the table, similar to the teapot except slimmer and higher. Steam is coming out of it too; a strong and rich aroma that I find surprisingly pleasant. Thoren extends his left hand to it.

"For you my friend. The perfect remedy for what ails you."

I sit down and pour some of it in my cup. It's dark brown, and I take a small mouthful - for once - discovering that it tastes as good as it smells, with a strong bitter undercurrent to it. I like that. As I drink more, I find that my headache is going and my stomach has settled quietly, and I feel a good energy flooding me. I raise my eyebrows in inquiry.

"This is coffea, something that I stumbled upon recently. It comes from the jungles of Sothorios; dark brown beans that have to be dried after harvesting them. Then they are crushed and can be brewed with boiling water. I like to drink it in the morning, and having sacks of the beans, I'll try to introduce it in Essos."

I nod approvingly and then ask: "Thoren, lend me a tunic, won't you? No use having made myselfsmell_ so sweet_ if I have to put on again the dirty one."

He chuckles and goes into his chamber, bringing back a dark brown tunic and a vest which fit in the width but are a bit short for me. No matter, they will do. I find that he's still looking at me with a twinkle in his eyes.

"What?"

"I do think that you'll have to smell _sweeter_ more often now. You're no longer in barracks or common rooms with rough men who don't care about bad smells. You're accompanying a lady now, a _real little lady_ like you said."

He smiles knowingly. Thoren is the only person in the world who can say anything to me without my getting angry about it. He'd always had this way about him that made me feel easy with him.

Giving him a glance of thanks, I go out on the deck. The fresh morning breeze restores me almost to my usual state, and when the men come out at their posts, they look curiously at me, but they find nothing in my demeanor or a movement that betrays last night's ravages. _Last night is a memory_ and my face has again that forbidding expression on it. The men's gazes turn full of respect. _Good for the discipline._ I've found out that if I want the men that I lead in a battle to be hard and tough, I have to be even harder than them.

Booka saunters up to me, grinning as usual.

"Master Hound, will you teach me about knife throwing?"

"Practice and practice; make the knife an extension of your arm that will obey what your eyes show you. I'll show you later. Bring me some bread and fruit now."

I eat those sitting on a barrel, and find my gaze shifting often to the door on the high cabin, wondering if she will show up on the stairway today. But she doesn't, and I feel uneasy about it.

I still feel like a shit about what happened yesterday, but when I take her out again, I'm firm in my mind that I won't apologise to her. _What is said is said._ I'm certainly not going to start behaving like these fucking simpering knights do when they want to get a lady's favor. When she sees me, I'm surprised to find her expression free of resentment and showing some concern.

"I hope that you're feeling better than this morning."

I wince at that. _She heard then, not the prettiest sounds to wake up to._

I reply gruffly, "That wasn't so bad. I've known much worse than this."

A corner of her mouth lifts up. "I don't think so, Sandor."

This is not what I had expected, and I find that I cannot resist the sparkle in her eyes. I smile. "You're right little bird. It was bad."

This day is already turning out a lot better that I had expected. We walk for a long time without speaking, just listening to the sound of the waves and the creaking one from the ship. I stop near the railing and turn around.

"When you went to pray in the godswood, you really believed in it, the gods and all that?"

She stops and gazes at me. "Yes, that's what I was taught, and I believed in it, I still do."

"You still believed even if your prayers were never answered?" I start to hear the edge in my voice, and she does too. Her face tenses up and her eyes narrow.

"Now, are you going to start again belittling everything that I say? If it is so, I won't stand for it."

She turns to leave, and I grasp one wrist, tugging at it gently to bring her around to face me again. A smile starts playing at on my mouth. I point at my chest. "I don't have the armor on today. You can strike me if you want."

"No." She bites her lower lip and takes a deep breath. "I shouldn't have done that yesterday. I don't feel good about it. I've never struck somebody before."

"Maybe you should start. Some people deserve it you know."

I'm surprised to see a corner of her mouth lifting up again. I think that she understands that it is my way of apologising. Then it vanishes quickly and she looks at me with intent eyes. "Yes, you're right, my prayers were not answered, but I still kept going to the godswood. It made me feel calmer afterward; giving me strength to face another day, giving me hopes that it maybe it would get better. Then, I started to stay longer because I felt the need to think, to clear my head of all the confusion, the lies and manipulations, so I could really try to understand."

She stops and raises her chin defiantly. "You kept mocking me because I believed that knights were noble, there to defend the weak and helpless. But even if I had come to realise that it was untrue, I still couldn't let it go; what else did I have to comfort me? "

The pain of lost dreams is all there in her glistening blue eyes, and it's hard to look at.

She lowers her eyes and sighs. "I had lost everything that was meaningful to me, and going there gave me some peace. And then one prayer was answered, but not in the way that I had thought that it would be."

She looks at me for a long moment, mesmerizing me with the luminous expression that has appeared on her face, the ghost of a smile. This I haven't expected. There I had been trying to harden her up for a long time and she had taken another road, her eyes more open now while keeping that softness and innocence that everybody had wanted to break, _including me. How wise of her not to have let me do it._

"This has more meaning for me than I can say Sandor, your helping me leave this place. Never forget that."

She starts to move away, with me following at her side... We walk around in silence again, and I feel that rare sense of being settled inside, like these little slivers of peace that I only got through her presence, however much she exasperated, and infuriated me at times.

As we arrive near the captain's cabin, she suddenly stops and turns to face me.

"Pardon me Sandor, but I noticed that while you don't believe in the seven gods, you seem to believe in the seven hells, as you curse about them so often."

"Oh, I believe in the gods." I'm showing my teeth in a grim smile. "They reign in the seven hells, not above in the pretty blue sky. They're having their fun down there, laughing at us."

"No! Light and dark exist both in people and the world. How could there be shadows if there was no light? It cannot be only darkness and pain; it would break my heart if I thought like this."

"Then prepare yourself for it to be broken, as little flowers can be crushed easily under the heel of a boot."

I see that my words have hurt her again by the way her face contracts painfully for a moment. She closes her eyes and breathes deeply.

"No! I won't let you."

But when she looks at me again, her eyes are so clear and blue, like a bottomless sea. As she gazes with at me for a long time, I feel like she can see through me and I through her too; this deep silent exchange joining us together a lot more than mere words could. I start to feel unsettled, and become even more so when she lifts up a hand to my face, feather light fingers stroking the beard on my jaw, creating shivers that course on my skin. My insides are melting. I withdraw abruptly and she lets her hand fall gracefully to her side. A ghost smile touches her mouth again.

"I know that you don't believe in the goodness of the Gods, but maybe if your prayers haven't been answered yet it is because they're very important, and these can take a lot of time in coming."

_How I wish I believed in this._

I'm flooded again with feelings that I don't know what to do with. I have to look away, lest she sees something in my eyes that I wouldn't want her to see. I look at the horizon without really seeing anything.

After a long moment, I hear her walking up the stairs, and I it brings me back to life, creating anxiety. I frown.

"Where are you going? You're not coming for supper?"

She turns back to answer. "Yes, but I have something to give you before we join the captain. Please come."

What can she give me? She has nothing, except herself... I seriously doubt that is what she wants to give me, just before supper at that...I follow her up the stairs, and hesitate before the threshold, like if it was opening on a new world, on the unknown. Contrary to what she may think about people and the world, I know that I'm mostly filled with darkness, having grown to mistrust good things even more than the bad ones for the treachery that they can hide.

She waits patiently and I finally come in clenching my teeth at my skittishness. She walks to the middle of the sitting room and then turns to me, an unfathomable expression on her face.

I ask ungraciously: "What?"

"I know that you won't accept a token of gratitude, but maybe you'll accept this. Do you remember when you asked me for a song? You said '_that one day you would take a song from me, whether I willed or not'_."

This isn't one of my best memories. _I was drunk._ I disliked the songs and the singers, and when I had asked her for a song, it had started more like sneering, a mockery of them, and then I had surprised myself by how much I had wanted the song from her, wishing that sweet gift for me.

I simply nod.

"Well, I'd like to sing one for you, if you wish it. Which song would you like?"

"Florian and Jonquil, like you said", I reply as stiffly as I feel my muscles and body are getting to be.

"Then it will be. But know that it's the last time that I'll sing the old songs. I'll learn other songs in this new world that we're going to. Please sit."

I go sit on the divan, and she stands in front of me. She breathes deeply and starts singing. Her voice immediately embraces the room, my ears and my head. It comes out effortlessly out of her throat like a low vibration, a whisper gaining strength, so soft and sweet that I shiver all over. I listen to the foolish and romantic tale, my eyes never leaving the sight of her. When it stops, I close my eyes, to savour the memory and sink it someplace safe in me.

_One unvoiced prayer answered. Maybe the world is not as awful as I thought._

On another night, as we get back to our quarters, she surprises me by sitting down on the divan. Usually, she's goes directly back to her chamber and goes to sleep not long after. Now, she's holding down the folded map of the world happily to her chest.

"This was so nice of Thoren to give it to me! Have you seen it?"

"No. Never had the time to see this one."

She looks up hopefully at me. "Do you want to?" She holds her hand out to a space beside her.

My, this is another day full of surprises. I nod and then walk slowly to the divan and sit down beside her. She unfolds the map carefully, and I'm reminded once again of how big it is. She holds by the left side while I take the right side. It is fantastically detailed, in different colours and textures to show mountains, forests, deserts, snow, and even has drawing of miniature structures in the main cities and towns, with all the names beautifully written at each location.

"I never tired of looking at it, it's marvellous. And it was quite a surprised to discover how Westeros looks like besides Essos; it's so narrow and long while Essos is huge and so wide. And these other continents that I didn't know of: Sothoryos, Ulthos...

Her finger draws a part of our crossing, hesitating near the Steeping Stones.

"Have we crossed these yet?"

My finger takes position from hers and slides down, nearing the isle of Lys. "We did. We're about here now, having sailed about two thirds of the journey now."

"And it's still only the beginning! The Summer Sea, the Jade Sea... Do you know where we could settle?"

"No, but I can tell you about some parts where we won't stay. At the Far East, the Shadow Lands. It's reputed to be a place of black magic, barren and dark. And all the northern part is where the Dothraki roam in cycles all year long."

"Oh, the nomadic horselords."

I sigh through my nose in impatience. "Not lords like you would like them to be, but barbarians, who ride with only a vest to cover their chest and long braids down their backs. They eat their own horses and carry curved blades."

She wrinkles her nose distastefully at this and I chuckle. She wouldn't last long with the Dothraki, I'm afraid. Daenery Targaryen did, marrying a khal when she was as young as Sansa is, but she was part of the old dynasty, a dragon, bent on reclaiming the Iron Throne that was taken by Robert Baratheon. "This land is very different from what we have known, maybe except for Braavos." I point at an island at the northern tip of Essos, in the Shivering Sea. "However, I find it too near Westeros, as there are a lot of contacts between it and King's Landing. Also, it is in a northern direction. Winter will come there."

My finger travels through different cities on the map, on an island, explaining the bits that I know about them. This is exhilarating, having the possibility to be able to choose in such a vast land, of seeing these cities, wondering about them.

"Would you like to live in a house near the sea?"

"Oh yes." Her eyes are sparkling. "I love the sea so much. We could see it through Blackwater's Bay, but it's not the same. I wish that I could sit on a balcony every night and watch the sunset, hear the waves, feel the warm breeze."

After a few minutes of perusing the map again, she folds it back, taking it in her hand and getting up. I can see that her eyelids are becoming heavy with tiredness, and that she'll retire soon to her chamber. I let out a long breath.

"Sansa. "

She gets a surprise too, as it's the first time that I call her by her given name. I can see that she likes it though, as her face softens with quiet joy.

"Yes, Sandor?"

_Gods, this is hard..._ "Thank you. For the song. For giving it willingly."

Her blue eyes gaze into mine. "You're welcome. I'll do it again, as I learn new ones."

"Do you wish me to buy you a harp when we arrive at Volantis?"

"No!" she replies vehemently, and then catches herself. "Thank you for the thought, but I don't want an instrument that will remind me of these old songs. If I can find something else with strings, something new that I can sing along to..."

"We'll look into that." I let a moment pass, to give me some breathing space and then I ask: "I was wondering about something. I've seen you put away scrolls in your chest. What are they?"

She startles at this and frowns. "I hope that you haven't looked at them?"

I sigh deeply as not to lose my patience. " If I had read them, I wouldn't need to ask you about them, would I?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I wasn't meaning to be mistrustful..."

I roll my eyes upward and almost smile. "Sansa, there's no need to apologise all of the time."

"But I have to! I always seem to say the wrong thing."

"Not true. What does it matter if you say the wrong thing sometimes? Hell, if I would have to apologise for every time that I have said the wrong thing, I would need to apologise for days and days."

Now I'm smiling, and a corner of her mouth lifts off and she laughs and laughs. I think that imagining the Hound saying he's sorry all day long must be quite an amusing sight. I laugh too.

"Then?"

She looks uncomfortable at this, and then takes a deep breath. "It's very personal, Sandor. It's a journal. I write about things that happen, how I feel about them."

"Does it help?"

"Yes. It's the strangest thing. After I've written, I feel like I've been released from all troublesome feelings." Then she frowns again, in inquiry. "Do you need some release too, Sandor?"

I'm finding that she's getting more and more perceptive, and I'm not sure what I think about that. I take a couple of deep breaths. "Maybe. But I'm not comfortable with scribbling."

She's turning around in the direction of her chamber. There's something else that I've been struggling with for days, something new for me and I really don't know how to go about it. So to give me some occupation, I get up and remove my belt with the dagger, keeping it dangling in my hand. She stops at the sound and looks up at me, then stares uneasily at the weapon. I come closer and lean against the space of wall between the two doors of our chambers. She looks at me with questions in her eyes.

"Little bird... Remember when you slept in my room for a few nights, when you had your nightmares?"

"Yes." I feel that her guard has come up, and it doesn't help me at all, but still I pursue it, now that I've started.

"Why did you stop?"

Now she's starting to look flustered, moving back to her door, her movements telling me that she's wanting to get away, that she's afraid. That makes me angry again, but I don't want to give into it, as getting angry has always pushed her back further. So I breathe deeply to calm it.

"Because I stopped being afraid."

"But you didn't stop being afraid of me."

She averts her gaze from mine, her face getting tense from distress.

"Please, stop tormenting me with this. It makes me uneasy. You're the Hound and you're a man too. You once leered at me... on the Serpentine. And on other occasions too in the past year."

_Because you were becoming a woman._ I close my eyes for a moment and then sigh. "True. So? Never did anything more. We both know that if I had wanted to force you, I wouldn't have needed you to be lying down sleeping and helpless. I'll not harm you. When are you going to really believe it?

"Why are you saying these things?"

_To reassure you._ "Because I found out that when you went back to sleep in your chamber again that I was missing it. _Please._"

Her eyes have gotten huge, and I find that my heart is beating swiftly from all the lines that I've crossed, from what it has opened in me; that unvisited needy part, from the blow to my pride; I never asked for anything before from anybody. I had always gotten what I had wanted through orders or paying for it.

"So I'm asking you now to do it again. I'm not biding nor ordering you; it's your choice. Yes or no."

I give her a last glance and then enter my chamber, going to hang the belt at the head of my bed. I'm feeling relieved about finally voicing my wishes, but also strangely vulnerable and with a new tension in me. I don't ask for anything because I don't want to hear a _no, and especially from her._ I move slowly, removing my boots with extra care so I can stretch the moment, to avoid for as long as possible the waiting time. And then when I turn around to pull the covers back, I hear her footsteps coming in cautiously.

I look at her, and I can't help the rising of the deep sense of triumph that fills me up with the headiest feeling inside, making me smile cockily at her. _The Hound's smile._

Her voice sounds like she caught between panic and resignation.

"I must have lost my mind to do something like this. I'm scared and it's inappropriate."

I can't help but laugh, but in an indulgent way, at the intent seriousness on her features.

"_Inappropriate?_ Another word that your septa taught you? Forget this. We both left our old lives behind and the old rules too. We'll make new rules in this new world."

"Oh."

I slip first in the bed, and after a moment's hesitation she does too, and I blow on the candles and a comforting darkness enfolds us. I'm sleepy too, but I feel that as tired as she looked, her mind is working on something too, and I remain alert, waiting patiently.

"Sandor?", she says in a small whispery voice. "May the gods forgive me, but I missed it too. _The sense of safety._ I've been alone for so long."

_And so have I, sweet thing. I didn't know of it until I met you. _


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter X**

**Sansa's Journal**

After my last moon, I have found that new sensations are awakening in me, strange stirrings in my lower belly and a peculiar restlessness. These feelings often manifest themselves when I look at Sandor's muscular thighs and big knees as he sits on a bench. I feel drawn to gaze at his long fingers as they slowly stroke his wine cup, feeling a kind of yearning. When I watch him striding on the deck, a tall dark figure with long black hair, looking like he has belonged there forever with his scarred face, my chest tightens inexplicably.

I've never felt this way before; when I first saw Joffrey, then ser Loras, I found them so handsome that I thought I was in love; swooning at the thought of them, dreaming of being with them, gazing in their eyes; these images were what I saw when I anticipated life with them. I had thought that Joffrey's chaste kisses were the height of happiness.

But they were boys and he is a man.

I know about mating, the joining of bodies that create offspring, but nobody has told me how it feels. Does it start before it happens? Is this what I'm feeling now, this disturbing awakening in my body, this sense of being betrayed by it? I find these sensations disturbing, and wish that my lady mother were here to explain them to me and to reassure me.

While I sleep every night with Sandor, it feels very chaste. Some boundaries are never breached, like there was a sword between us to keep them. I know that he would laugh at me if I said so, that he's no knight and doesn't believe in these foolish gallant rituals, but I still feel the presence of this ghost sword. His body and limbs never stray from the strict borders which he has outlined for them. I too haven't strayed, except for the first time, when I had slept snuggled up next to his back.

I did it because I was afraid, and now I'm too afraid to do it.

Then on one night I had a nightmare again. In the dream, I had woken up in my bed at the Red Keep, with Joffrey leaning over me, his hands restraining my arms and keeping me pined to the bed. I had panicked then, because I couldn't understand how he could have gotten in, as I had noticed that my door was still whole and locked. I had tried to struggle but his grip had gotten stronger, and I had felt deep despair, as it seemed that nothing would ever keep him away, not even walls, doors or locks; I was doomed. His face, that I had found so beautiful before, disgusted me now, especially these full, ravenous lips. And that face was coming very near my own, and I had screamed as it was my last resource...

And I had woken up in the bed in the cabin at sea, sitting up stiff as a board, my heart pounding so loudly in my chest that I was panting. My gaze was circling the room frantically, but it was black as pitch, and only feeling the rougher fabric of the coverlet and the gentle rocking of the waves assured me where I was. And then I sensed a presence in the bed next to me, remembering that it was Sandor, and felt him turn over on his side, the side that was facing mine. I felt guilty that I had awoken him again in the middle of the night, but he was not saying anything; I was only hearing his regular breathing. As not to disturb him further - instead of going off in the sitting room to light a candle to calm myself down - I lay down again and didn't move, feeling so raw and trembling.

I sighed, and then sensed another movement, an arm hovering over my head and a hand that landed on my hair. It started stroking it, in slow, rhythmic movements, so tender and light that I couldn't believe that it was coming from that rough, big masculine hand. I started to feel better from it, my fears gradually calming down and the nightmare receding from me. It had been so long since somebody had touched me like this; the last one had been my father, a few days before his imprisonment. I had missed it so...

But it was not feeling the same. It was awakening in me a fluttering in my chest, a thrill in my heart and shivers on my skin. While I had craved a candle to chase the shadows, now I preferred the darkness that was hiding my feelings and reactions; was enjoying not seeing him but knowing that it was him; the dark made it thrilling and secret. The caresses were going on and on; on top of my head, on the sides, brushing my earlobe, and I was wishing that they would never stop while the sensations from them were becoming intense and unbearable. I had to move, to stop them, so I touched his forearm and squeezed it. He removed the hand right away and let it fall against his side.

"Thank you Sandor," I whispered.

"You're still trembling. Nobody will hurt you while I'm here. You're safe."

I had turned on my side, silent tears of joy sliding on my cheeks, happiness wrapping me like the most comforting blanket. After all the devastation that had left me bare and hollow, I felt for the first time that something truly beautiful was happening to me, in me. I inched closer to him, and put an arm around his waist. Then I had slept peacefully.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter XI**

**Sandor**

This has turned out to be the most peaceful time in my life. I hadn't thought of what would follow when we would find a place to settle, what I would do.

While I like this life on the ship, and know that Thoren would readily accept me as a partner. I don't think that I'm suited to this life of eternal traveling and wandering, though. Thoren is rarely on land for more than a week, and I need to grow roots on land. And while I like this now, I know that I would get restless with the monotony of buying and delivering goods, with no adventure in sight... I'm no merchant, I'm a warrior. What about The Golden Company, comprised of exiled knights and sons of highborns? Fuck no; no more _knights_, unless I had the mission to kill all of their members.

Pirating? That would be sweet revenge, especially coming upon a passenger ship of rich westerners... But it would mean being away for months, and I didn't think that I would want to leave Sansa alone that long. Being a sworn shield to an important figure of the East? I wouldn't be my own man anymore; having to obey again some tyrant or King, with their propensity for deathly courts, plots and intrigues. An assassin? I do like a target that fights back, but if the target were very hard to get at... that could be intriguing.

Fortunately, there's no haste in making a decision; I could even decide to do nothing, as I have to means for it, but it's not in my nature to be idle. I'm more anticipating our getting near to our first destination, and finally, after we had been surrounded by water for so long, it happens one morning.

"Land, ho!" calls one of the hands, who had climbed up the crow's nest and had checked the horizon with a spy glass.

I really have to squint to see something, but then I see it too, a small, different coloured feature emerging at the horizon line of water and sky. Everybody stops their activities for a moment to gaze at this wondrous sight.

I go get Sansa, and as we stand near the railing, I put a hand on her shoulder and point it out at her.

"See that, that light brown landmass? It's Volantis. The sailors knew that we were near even before sighting it, as birds always fly at sea near land."

"Oh." She looks disappointed though. "But it looks so small and faraway!"

_Just like a child._ I sigh. "Be patient. It won't take so long now."

And we wait near the railing as we make our approach. The landmass gets bigger and bigger, a strange beautiful sight: gold brown with lush greenery and with blinding white structures against the clear blue sky. I've never seen anything like this, and she looks at me with wonder.

"Do you think that we'll be able to visit?"

"Yes, we'll be docked for two days here; resupplying, selling cargo, hiring some new hands. I don't know exactly when though: I have to speak with Thoren about the schedules and when he'll give me leave."

"The trees and greenery look so different. Do you think that the summer is eternal here?"

"Maybe. When we left King's Landing, we were in autumn, and here, it's hotter than the warmest summer day that I've known."

She has flung her head back in pleasure, closing her eyes. When she opens them again, her eyes have turned dreamy.

"This is so wonderful, Sandor. It looks like a magical land. Don't you think so?"

"No." While I too am impressed with the view of this foreign city, I harbor no illusions about it being an _enchanted place._ People are shits and liars everywhere in the world: driven by ambition, greed and power. It will be the same here, except that it will come in a different manner, with their foreign customs and ways; harder to spot but _still there._

I can see that she's not pleased at my response. Her face gets a crestfallen expression, replaced by a sullen one and a cooler tone of voice.

"What about the tongue? Can we be understood there by the inhabitants?"

"They use the common tongue here, just like in Westeros. Now, go back to the cabin, but stand ready in case we can disembark soon."

I escort her up to the door and go join Thoren where he is standing. We return to his cabin, sitting down to cups of wine. He looks a lot more rested and content than at the beginning of the crossing. He claps me on the shoulder.

"You've done great work, dog. I never thought it would go that well."

"Well, men are men, whether they are swords fighters or sailors. I'm used to a pack of curs. Once they knew that they couldn't mess with me, they settled down. I don't think now that I want to get rid of them. First, they know who I am and could blab about me, and second, they became a good crew. We'll need only a couple more of them, to replace the one that was _lost_."

We laugh at that. Things are so simple with another man! None of us is horrified by dumping a dead body in the water.

"So what happens now?"

"I'm giving you have a full day's leave right now. As for tomorrow I'll need you most of the day. Then we'll depart shortly after. Organize the men's leave in shifts, with the schedules that I've outlines here, so that everybody can enjoy themselves."

Before disembarking, I give her firm instructions.

"We can visit and look at what you want, but remember to always stay close and never leave my side."

She rolls her eyes and sighs petulantly, making me harden my mouth and gaze as to drive the point clearly. My teeth clench briefly. I can see that she still doesn't understand yet that the world is a dangerous place. She's still ready to embrace things at their face value, thinking that they are good because they are new and different. Thankfully, I'm more realistic.

As we leave the harbor, coming into the city, we are engulfed in exotic sights and smells. The buildings are so different from Westeros, being mostly white and less massive, with partitioned small windows rounded at the top. Some of the buildings are bigger and covered with rounded roof, the middle sharp and pointing at the sky. It's very warm. The people are different too, shorter and smaller boned for the most part and have darker skins; they are dressed in lighter garments, tunics and large pants, the women with skirts on top of the pants; some of the men with their heads wrapped in vivid cloth. They speak in a singing way in their own tongue. I've spotted very few Westerners; but still there are some of them scattered through the crowd.

A few of the inhabitants are riding huge grey animals, with great flapping ears and a long trunk in front, with ivory curves on each side of its mouth pointing wickedly. The riders sit on a kind of chair contraception on top of richly embroidered blankets.

I'm impressed. _Imagine sitting on that in a battle!_ I would probably stomp out a lot of the enemy before having to unsheathe my sword. Upon spying it, Sansa takes a step back and clings to my arm, her eyes widened.

"What kind of animal is it?" she asks in an almost hushed tone.

A corner of my mouth lifts. "It's called an elephant."

"Are they dangerous?"

"Well, if they can be ridden they must not be so bad. But I wouldn't want to anger one, having that fucking big grey thing charge on me."

She shudders comically and I laugh. As we resume our walk, I can see from the stares of passerby's that it is _us_ who are the exotics here. What a sight we must make! I, big in dark armor with paler skin, half burned face and long black hair, and she, small, delicate and so pale, dressed in peasant dress with a kerchief on her head that only emphasizes the refinement of her features. I'm pleased though that they tend to keep a healthy distance from us, probably because of my weapons and the surly expression that I've put on again. But the men stare at her, and just like in the West, they don't bother to disguise their hunger.

"Where are we going?"

"To a kind of market place called a bazaar. Hopefully, we'll find what we both need."

The streets have started to converge upon an opening, revealing a maze of very narrow, covered alleys with stalls, feverish activity and a lot of chatter. Fabric and clothes of every hue hang on the walls of the stalls and float enticingly in the breeze. There are cloth bags full of pungent smelling spices, silverware studded with beads, strange delicate furniture, ornate daggers with a mean arc, and everything else that I could have envisioned or not. The wares look refined and so ornate. While this is enjoyable to look at, I find the closeness and the overhead coverings that shade us from the sun overwhelming.

But Sansa is reacting very differently. Her eyes are filled with excitement, her lips parted in wonder, her face glowing. She's even clapping her hands! When we reach a juncture between the alleys, I push her in a corner between stalls, restraining her by grabbing her shoulders in my hands. She looks up in surprised alarm.

"When will you stop doing this? Stop it!"

I lower my head closer to hers. "Listen to me good. This place is unknown to us, and we have to be very careful, and not bring too much attention on ourselves. If you continue to smile like this, we'll be robbed blind by the sellers."

She looks puzzled. "But why?"

"Because here the selling works differently from what we're used to. There are no set prices; they start higher than the seller wishes to sell them at and you have to bargain down until both seller and customer are satisfied. It's their custom. So when they'll spy you with that smile glowing from a league away, they'll raise their prices sky high."

"Oh."

"So I want you to be silent and leave the bargaining to me."

She nods and we continue exploring. I'm satisfied to notice that she's put on her Lady Stark expression, distant and poised. When she stops at a stall, she looks almost disinterested as she fingers the tunics, skirts and pants; some in gauzy, bright fabrics, some in printed silks. Those vivid blues and greens will make her hair flame even more. The seller looks on expectantly, and she nods at me. I point out to the seller what she has chosen, and he takes them off the wall, praising their high quality in a flowery speech, and I set myself, ready for the haggling. _How tiresome._

He calls a price, and I protest, spitting in disgust on the cobbled stones. _What a thief! _Sansa gasps in horror, but manages to say nothing. The seller puts on a mortified expression, his hands landing dramatically on his cheeks, and I make to leave. He calls me back in a begging voice, and I return with a scowl. We continue in this manner until it is settled. I sigh impatiently as I pay him with the gold coins, and put everything in the big leather pouch that I've been carrying.

We go on like this, with me purchasing slippers, one silk pair with embroidered beads, sleep dresses, perfumed soaps and the spicy tea that she loves. As we approach a stall with items of a more personal nature, she stops and glances at me, and I find that she's blushing.

"Please Sandor, I would appreciate if you didn't hover over me like this at this stall. I'm sure that if even you stand a bit further, I'll still be close enough."

I sigh through clenched teeth, but I still give her the coins and retreat. As I observe, I see that the bargaining doesn't take long, and I spy the glint of satisfaction in the sellers' face. She's been robbed, but I'm sure that even if she knew it she wouldn't care, as she probably thinks that all this haggling is beneath a lady's a ladies good manners.

When we visit others stalls, I take care to do once again do the bargaining. We manage books and a rounded stringed instrument with a long neck, called a _mandolin_. I'm glad now that I've agreed to let Thoren pay me, and pay me well he did. I won't have to touch my own founds yet.

Then I spy a stall for men's garments, and I'm surprised to find tunics and breeches long and big enough for me, although they come in pale colours that I dislike, as they'll show stains and dirt right away. I don't hide my discontent from the seller.

"These colours are not good for me. Have these garments dyed in black and I'll come pick them up tomorrow."

The seller looks at me in bewilderment, gesticulating in excitable movements.

"But Great Lord, dark colours draw in the sun's rays, and you'll get hotter! Pale colours will keep you cool."

I snort impatiently. "I don't care! Will you do it or not?"

He nods, although he seems most confounded by my strange wishes. We manage to agree on a price and time tomorrow for the delivery of them.

With all that business finished, I exhale a brief sight of relief, and I guide her in the direction of the food stalls. We buy grilled meat and vegetables skewed on wood sticks and mint tea and wine. There are no benches here, but small marble round tables with delicate ornate chairs. I spy these chairs with mistrust and as I sit down cautiously on one, I find that they're sturdier that I had first thought, although I have to sit with my legs wide open to keep my balance. I've dropped the bulging leather pouch between my feet.

The food is surprisingly good, and I find that I'm enjoying its spicy taste. I wolf it down, while Sansa nibbles on hers more delicately. Our hunger satisfied, I take a big swallow of wine and she sips at her tea. She has that ghost smile and her eyes are sparkling.

"Thank you so much Sandor for this." I'm still uncomfortable with this courtesy, as I would like to tell her that I give only because I want to, so no there's no need for thanks. But I say nothing; I'm pleased that she seems so happy. There she is all excited about this new finery, while I'm simply satisfied that I'll finally have sets of clean garments _again._

She looks expectantly at me, and I know what she wants to say before she opens her mouth. "I love it here; it's so beautiful and colourful! May we stay?"

"No." It comes out like the crack of a whip, and the hopeful expression in her face disappears. She lowers her head almost dejectedly.

"But why?"

_So childish and impulsive, still so easily seduced by beautiful appearances. But it's in her nature and she's still very young. I should have understood that better in the past. _

So I sigh with regret and use a gentler tone.

"We have to get to know a lot more about a new place and think things through before making a decision about staying there. While I don't know much of this city I mistrust it, with these people speaking in silken voices and sly glints in their eyes, hiding their treacherous thoughts behind bows and oily smooth manners. It feels like a deathly den of snakes to me, shadows everywhere behind all these colours and perfumed scents. And it's still too close to Westeros. I want us to be much further from it than this."

"If you say so." Behind the disappointment in her eyes, I can see a spark of rebelliousness, and I find my mood darkening too. "Now, I don't want you to do something foolish because you don't like my decision." I finish the wine and get up.

"Come, let's leave."

She gets up reluctantly. I heave back the pouch on my shoulder and we make our way out of the bazaar. I don't want to still be here when it becomes dark. I quicken the pace as we walk out of the city, holding first her arm so she can better keep up with me, then her wrist, then finally her hand. It feels small and soft in my big paw, like some precious thing trusting me.

We stop walking at the harbor, her hand still clasped in mine. The harbor is almost empty of people at this hour; few passerby's to give us their curious glances. The orb of the sun is bigger here further south, almost a living thing as it slowly goes down in the sky, shooting down its last piercing golden rays. I hear the waves that are coming gently on the shore, the sounds of a discordant stringed instrument, accompanied by a wailing voice, all so intoxicating in their strange ways. I look at Sansa and see that her hair is aflame, slightly ruffled by the warm, soft breeze. She looks up at me with eyes which seem to reflect the dying light of the world. Bringing her hand up, I cover it with mine and press it down on my chest. I gaze into her face for a long moment, feeling a deep sense of fulfillment that nothing else has given me before, except this place, this moment. I wish that I could stay there forever.

Then the sun disappears, and with the coming dark, the spell is broken. No harbor is safe at this time of night, and I tug on her hand and we walk the rest of the way to the ship. The ship is quiet too, with a lot of the men on shore leaves. That feels good too, a bit of peace and quiet.

Entering the cabin, I dump the bag on the floor. She just stands there, eyeing it with an unreadable expression. She has remained silent and I don't trust this. I put myself in front of her to cut off her view of anything else but me.

"Look at me, little bird. I know that you're unhappy with my decision, but no defying me this time, will you?"

She sighs sullenly "Yes, I promise," and before I can open my mouth, she finishes it for me. "Or there will be hell to pay. I know."

"Good."

I sit down on the divan, stretching my legs in front of me, while I watch her taking things out of the bag. I'm thinking that I could get used to days like this easily. She's smiling now and has regained her good mood. She's hard to keep pace with. I can't understand how she can change moods that quickly, like a child. My own memories of being a child are one main mood: _being fucking scared most of the time._

"Finally, I'll be able to sleep in something else than these dresses! I'll put a new one on right away. I have to admit to you that while I said that I was content with these dresses, it was not entirely true. They're a bit rough, although I was still _grateful_ to have more than one of them."

I laugh, as I'm not surprised at all by this white lie. She is still eager to please as to keep conflicts and criticising at bay, and I find that I don't have the heart to scold her about it. _Give her time to feel more at ease with you and others so she can feel free to speak her mind all the time._

And like a child, she starts quickly to yawn, exhausted from this day. She brings the pile with her in my chamber and retires as soon as she has put it away in the chest.

I leave to join Thoren, so we can discuss tomorrow tasks, and I find that strange as it may be for me, I _feel happy._


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter XII**

**Sansa's Journal**

Sandor took some time to explain things to me this morning before leaving for the city. He said that while the captain was teaching him about the Free cities and the lands beyond it, that he would trust his own feelings about the places that the freighter would dock in, and that we wouldn't settle in a place that I didn't like.

I realise now that I was too hasty and impulsive about wanting to stay at the first city that we had docked in! It's just that I'm not used to travelling for so long and that my nature wants to put down roots fast; because I want the hole left by the loss of my childhood home to be filled quickly. I want a house near the sea that I've grown to love so much where I'll feel safe, where I'll know that I've have escaped from the King and the knights. Then I'll believe that I'm finally free from the Red Keep.

I've come to fear Sandor less and less, and even found that I'm growing fond of him, something I wouldn't never had believed when I first met him, this terrifying looking man, this warrior who loved to kill. _And who still does._ While I'm not denying what he is - and I know that his anger will always be there as it is part of his nature - I find that I have grown a kind of armor and am less upset by it and his bitterness. And I understand what made him this way. How could he be otherwise with what happened to him when he was a boy?

I accept now that my life will be with him. In a way, it's not so surprising; in the years since I've known him, he had taken an increasingly bigger place in my life, in my mind, and now, he has also chased the boys who were in it. My lady mother would certainly be horrified, as I would have been before, but the highborns and those who had surrounded them had betrayed me.

I trust that he'll try to protect me from harm, unlike these knights who beat me up and the others who were gallant and courteous, but who never cared about how I was mistreated. I had felt that trust when I had awakened on that morning against his broad back, but the depth of it had scared me.

Strangely, Sandor cares about me in his own way; I realise now that he always has, despite his harsh manner and sometimes hurtful words, because his actions have spoken of it. I have lost my beloved direwolf Lady, but I have gained back in exchange the fiercest hound.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter XIII**

**Sandor**

The next day, I manage to wrap up the ship's business and my own. Although I'm running a bit late, I have to return to the bazaar to pick up my garments. Sansa has asked me this morning to come get her so she could see the bazaar again, but I have refused. I didn't have a good feeling about these alleys, and I didn't want her there if something were to happen.

And when I get there, some treachery happens just as I had expected.

As I stand near the table, inspecting the garments which have been dyed satisfactorily, I feel something brush against my side, almost like a tickle, and when I reach instinctively to touch my leather purse coin, I find that it's gone. I turn around quickly and spy a slight's man silhouette, dressed like so many in a pale tunic and trousers hurrying through the crowd, and I go off after him right away.

I don't bother to hide my pursuit, and he must have heard my heavy pounding footsteps, as he starts to weave in and out, scurrying like a rat does. He has a good head start on me and while I'm not nimble as him, my legs are much longer than his and I'm a Hound who never lets go of the scent in the hunt.

It takes three turns of these alleys before I manage to catch up to him as he enters a very small courtyard surrounded by blind walls. I grab him from behind with a hard arm, while he struggles and protests plaintively, yapping without end. I ignore his words, as I feel he wants to distract me with them. Then I spy two others coming at us with knives raised, looking so much like the thief that they could be fucking brothers. I realise then that he has led me here on purpose as to bring me into this ambush. It makes my nostrils flare with rage.

The one on the left opens his mouth, speaking with the signing accent.

"You, you leave him unharmed, and maybe we won't kill you."

I spit at them contemptuously. I'm watching for any miniscule change in their movements and eyes. I see nothing. They hide their intent better than western men. Some kind of instinct makes me grab the thief by the scruff of his neck and the seat of his pants, and I just have time to lift him up to my height like a shield before I hear the knives whistling and feel the impact of the blades burying themselves in his body with a wet sound. He gurgles. I sway for a moment, and I regain my balance as I release my hold on him and let his body fall to my left side.

Their eyes, which have been become rounded with shock, now start to fill with fear as they realise their predicament. I'm still blocking their only means of escape, and now they are weaponless. I laugh mockingly as I advance on them, unsheathing my sword. They keep babbling like their counterpart and I pierce one in the belly and on the next move strike the other in the chest, and then it's done.

I kneel on one knee amidst the spilled blood and turn the first corpse on its back. The two knives are embedded close to another; one on his forehead and the other at his throat. This could have been me if I hadn't obeyed my instinct. _Good knife throwing._ I pat down his body, finding a suspiciously hard bulge in the pants' pocket, and reaching in I retrieve it. There I've found my coin purse, cut from its belt. I pocket it, wipe my blade on one of his pants' leg, sheathe my sword and return to the alleys.

I walk slowly in the direction of the seller stall, swaggering deliberately through the crowd as to make myself appear even bigger, a scornful set to my features. People give me more space. When the seller spies me approaching his table, his eyes become fearful and then I fully understand the treachery: _he had set this up beforehand with the thieves!_ That makes me grit my teeth. I act nonchalant though, asking him about what I owe him. His hands gesticulate wildly before his face.

"A mistake great lord! I apologise for everything, nothing to pay! You owe me nothing."

"Good, as you won't need money where I'm sending you."

Before he has time to react, I lean over the table and grab his head between my hands and twist his head sharply on his neck, creating a great grinding and popping of bones. I haven't used a weapon this time, as I don't want any blood spilled on my new clean garments. I let him go and he falls backwards, sliding on the wall of the booth and ending down on the pavement behind the table.

I let out a long sigh and turn around quickly, and as I have expected I find myself surround by men with eyes narrowed, these wicked curved knives having appeared in some hands. Without pause, I unsheathe my long sword with my two hands and gripping it, I give a mighty swing and cut an arc with the blade though them, making blood fly. Then everything turns silent.

Everybody looks at me fearfully, and as I gaze at them back with the bloody sword still in gripped in one hand, they start to retreat and then some even run. I laugh again. While keeping a close watch, I gather my garments and put them in the leather pouch, which I swing on my shoulder. I start to walk back with my sword still out and I turn around regularly to check if anybody is following me. When I arrive at the end of the alleys, I sheathe the longsword, and stride faster to the harbor.

Well, that settles it then for Volantis. I would have no fucking peace there, and I'm already too well known. Also, _they talk too much._ I just hope that the other cities won't be like this; but this has just confirmed my view that the word is a dangerous place, that I have to learn new things and adapt to a new way of thinking. I just hope that there will be elephants somewhere else, as I would really like to see one closer and examine it.

As I get on the ship, I spy Sansa and Booka, who follows me around now and whom I had left to guard her. Booka had told me not long ago that he wanted to follow me when I would get off the ship to settle someplace. It was true that he had started to develop some special loyalty to me soon on the journey; he had never flinched from the sight of my burns, was good natured and friendly. I had asked him what he thought that he could do for me on land.

"Guard your house and your lady while you're away, assist you in your endeavors, even be your sworn shield, like you say in Westeros."

That had made me laugh. As if I needed one! However, he was getting along fine in his training, having natural abilities with weapons. I thought if he got good with a knife and a sword, he'd be quite dangerous: fooling people into thinking that he was harmless with his sunny disposition.

I had wondered at how he would feel about not travelling on the sea anymore, and he had replied that he had become a sailor to explore the world, had seen a lot of it and was ready now to settle down, working for somebody worthy. He had been good with Sansa after I had killed off her attacker, and she seemed at ease with him too. I had him play his instrument to her while she was on the deck with me, and she had been entranced. She has even asked him if he would teach her songs from the Summer Isles.

Both are waiting at the bottom of the stairway. She has put on the green tunic and flowing pants and the contrast with her hair reminds me again of these colourful birds from Southern Isles. _What a wonderful sight after what has happened._ Being this late in coming back, I'm not surprised that she's looking very worried. When she sees me, her face lights up with an expression of deep relief. She moves as if to hurry toward me, but I stay her with my hand.

"Sandor!" she cries out. "You took so long in coming back, I was afraid something bad had happened to you!"

It makes me chuckle. "No, I'm alright, but something _bad_ happened to some fucking thieves who thought that I was fair game, being a foreigner to these parts."

I'm walking in their direction and it's only then that she notices the stains of blood that are all over me. Her hands fly instinctively to her mouth to stifle a gasp, and I come no nearer.

"I _told_ you that we had to be careful in these alleys. They must have spotted me yesterday, and when I came back today, they probably couldn't believe their luck." And I had been _distracted_ yesterday, pleased with her delight in everything and throwing money around carelessly. I _hadn't_ spotted them.

Booka looks at me, an excited spark to his eyes. "How many where they?"

I don't think that Sansa needs to hear this, and I bid her to go back to the cabin and say that I'll be along shortly. She obeys silently, and when she has ascended the stairs and closed the door behind her, Booka raises his eyebrows expectantly at me. I can't help but to shake my head at his eager expression.

"About fifteen, but not all at the same time." He whistles at this, much impressed, and I tell him the details and he's grinning. I never thought that this mild and good natured young fellow was so bloodthirsty.

Then I ask him to bring me a bucket of water to the privy, and as I look in the mirror there I find that I look like I've been in a battle. Spots of blood are everywhere: on my face, my hands, arms and plate; even in my hair. I remove the armor, the belts with the weapons and the mail, thinking that I'll clean them later. With a big cloth and looking in the mirror, I rub the blood off my face, hair and hands. Being quite thirsty, I take welcome gulps of the cool water. I gather my gear in a big bundle and then I go back to our quarters, feeling uncertain as I open the door to the cabin, not knowing what reception I will get. I know that she's always been horrified at how easily killing comes to me.

She must have been in the chamber. As soon as I close the door, she flies through the open doorway of the chamber, and I fling my heavy bundle on the divan as she literately hurls herself at me, her hands on my chest and her face looking up at mine anxiously. This throws me off, as it's not exactly what I had expected.

"Sandor, I was so scared that you were not coming back, that you had died!"

I look down at her with a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. "You wasted time worrying about me. I was the meanest dog that they had ever encountered in their lives. Don't fret."

She buries her face in my chest, and my arms come around her hesitantly, as I get a disturbing sensation that I'm dangerous ground; feeling like I'm teetering on the edge of some abyss. Now, I don't want to listen to this; I ignore the feeling and push down it fiercely. I stroke that wonderful, silky copper hair and she sighs contently. She looks up at me, one hand climbing up and caressing my bearded throat and chin, in slow strokes that make me feel immediately very lightheaded. I rest my forehead against the top of her head.

"Stop this..." I beg in a raspy tone. "Stop me!"

She gazes at me with that ghost smile again; this smile that makes me want to lose myself in it and believe that I can forget all that's bad and ugly. I take her head between my hands and look at her intently. I sway on my feet and crush her against me, one hand grabbing the back of her neck and lowering my head. _Kissing is something that I don't know..._ Whores don't kiss, and I hadn't felt the need for it. But I find that it comes naturally; I kiss her at first gently; just a brushing of lips, some delicate nibbling, then more. She parts her lips without resistance against my probing tongue, and I drink of her mouth as a very thirsty dog would drink of some potent wine from his bowl. _Gods, this is so good!_ It lasts so long that when I wrench my mouth away, I'm breathing hard.

Her arms go around my neck, and deep moan involuntary escapes from me. I hold her tight against me. I kiss her hair, her face; devour her mouth again and again. My hands slide up and down her slender body, like mad creatures that have been freed suddenly, feeling the heat of her skin underneath the thin fabric, the delicate bones, and all of the enticing curves. I can't seem to stop grunting and groaning loudly. In a sudden movement, I lift her up and carry her to my room, still kissing her.

I sit her gently on the edge of the bed. Standing up again, I remove my tunic and boots. As I approach, I kneel down in front of her, slide down her flowing pants, leaving her with the tunic. I take off her slippers, caressing her feet and kissing them, my mouth moving up slowly on her calves, knees, thighs.

"Lie down, Sansa."

I lift off the tunic and part her thighs slowly with my hands, lifting them up on my shoulder, gazing at her womanhood, the copper hair that is there too. I lower my face. An intoxicating scent fills up my nostrils and my head and I bury my face in the delicate folds, licking and tasting ravenously. Seven hells, I'll never get enough. As I hear little sighs coming from her, my body tingles all over, I open my mouth wider taste more of her and my hands grab her hips hard. She gives out a yelp of pain and I stop, raising my head. _Slow down, gentle now._ I rise from my knees, raise her arms to remove the tunic and lifting her, I lay her down in the middle of the bed, then I get on it, resting on my side, feasting my eyes on that beautiful slender body. Gods, her skin! It has the texture of a creamy pearl, smooth and softly glowing. I slowly stroke her small waist, her arms, belly and breasts, sucking on the rosy little buds. I lower down my head to get even more of these delicious silky kisses, and then I can't wait anymore; shifting, I lower myself on top of her, my elbows and forearms supporting most of my weight. I lower my breeches and part her thighs with a knee, whispering against her forehead.

"I'm sorry little bird; this will hurt, but only for a while. Don't be afraid."

_But she is._ I have already felt her body stiffen with the dread caused by the sudden weight of man bearing down on her, my hard part pushing against her soft part. Her blue eyes look fearful. Tensing up my hips, I give a sudden lunge, entering in one swift stroke. She whimpers and arches her hips against the pain. I feel badly about causing another hurt, and kiss her forehead, the tears on her lashes. I don't move, letting her get used to the feeling of me inside her, and when I feel the stiffness leave her limbs, I start with slow strokes, trembling at the wonder of it. She looks directly in my eyes, her gaze never wavering from mine; her fingers entwine themselves in my hair and that creates a most exquisite shivering all over my skin. I groan and move quicker, an unbearable tension building up and I can't stop the explosion, the release that comes with such a piercing sweetness that I grunt like a man fighting for his life.

I roll off to free her from my weight and rest on my back, keeping my body close to hers. I'm panting so hard that I can't move for minutes, my chest rising and falling swiftly. I close my eyes. She has turned on her side; I can feel her soft breath cooling my upper arm, some strands of her hair on my arm.

Then something shifts in me, something _cold._ An unnamed dread compels me to keep my eyes shut, making me unable to open them and look at her. After another long moment, when I do dare to look, her own eyes are closed and she seems to sleep. I don't know what I had expected, but it doesn't feel right somehow; my heart sinks. _ How can she have fallen asleep so quickly_? I keep looking at her and her eyes remain closed. The wellbeing evaporates instantly; doubt and turmoil start to gnaw in me_. She probably can't bear to look at me anymore._ A little hand comes to rest on my forearm, such a natural trusting gesture that I feel a lump forming in my throat, but I fight the feeling because I know it's not true! _It's the gift of pity!_ The pain in my throat moves rapidly to my chest, soon engulfing it completely, constricting it heavily. _NO! _The feeling that I had buried is coming swiftly upon me; this teetering on the edge of the abyss that I had sensed earlier returns savagely, and except this time, I feel myself falling into it.

_I have to get up!_ In spite of my growing panic, I move slowly as not to disturb her and cover her with the bedding. I get up from the bed, putting on my tunic and boots again with frantic speed. Taking a lighted candle with a saucer, I walk silently to the door and close it carefully as to make no noise. I lock the other door and sit down with my back resting against it like a guard dog, the candle next to me on the floor. I cross my legs and rest my arms on my raised knees, bending my neck. I'm breathing hard again; my chest feels like it's going to crack open, and sobs start to come out of my throat.

I'm falling into a black dungeon, where my darkest and deepest fears lie. I'm sensing that the old hard knot of anger in me has started to loosen. _I don't want it to, not when I need it now more than ever! _ But I can already feel the hard layers melting off one by one, leaving me naked and vulnerable. I can't run anymore from it, and now I see it all... What a supreme irony! All the battles, the fighting, facing death every day; they were nothing! It all had come so naturally and easily to me, and yet I had been so proud of it all, thinking that I was fearless, hard and invulnerable! Never having had let anything touch, me except anger, killing and drinking; never being again like the little boy that I was, _defenceless helpless..._

But there had come another danger yet, unexpected in its nature, appearing in the deathly guise of beauty and innocence; a lure that I had been unable to resist. As soon as I had seen her at Winterfell, I had known that I wanted her. I had felt hope, thought that with a desire this strong she was fated to be a gift for me; _regardless of rank and circumstances and my horrible scars._ Even though her fear and revulsion of me _were the hard truth, _and were expressed every time that she was in my presence,I had obstinatelyclung to that hope like a madman - the hope that wasn't hope anymore but some kind of disease that had taken a life of its own. But it had never been meant as a gift for me, but a curse of these mocking gods! These gods that she had almost started me believe in.

But she had only accepted my help because she was desperate and willing to do anything to escape from the King: _finally looking at me without flinching._ Being forced to depend on me for her survival and safety, wanting me to continue protecting her; she had changed how she behaved toward me. Being a woman now, she had gotten smarter, sensing the weakness that I had for her, and had started to be sweet to me.

And it had worked. Her every gestures of sweetness, however hard I fought them still found their way in, gradually crumbling away at my defenses, _seducing me,_ each one putting me closer and closer on the edge of that damn abyss, and like a fucking dimwit, I had ignored reality; now it was coming back to bite me in the face.

She had hidden her natural horror as to give me what she knew I wanted and then she couldn't bear to go on for another moment, having been this close to me, my scars. _That's why she was pretending to sleep..._

_NO! I can't stand this! _What will follow after? An expression of revulsion in an off guard moment, and then a frantic covering up of it... _Lies..._ _More revulsion more lies..._ And then I will die a much worse death than by physical means; I will shatter in a thousand pieces, rotting from the inside like a dead tree and like it, I will be lifeless while still standing up.

And what will happen when we find somewhere to live on this continent? Being so beautiful and a lady, men, _handsome_ and richer men will become enamored of her and offer her everything that she's ever dreamed of, will seduce her with the pretty words that she likes and having no use for me anymore, she'll fly away, leaving my hands empty once again... I can't stand the thought of it and that of_ another man having her!_

Terror leaves me, replaced by a fury that boils like thick dark blood in my head, rushing through my limbs. _My dagger..._ I get up and walk to the divan, fumbling through the pile of gear on it until my gaze finds it. I feel the need to lift it from the belt, to hold it. I unsheathe it from the scabbard, taking it in my hands, admiring its cold metallic glint, slowly turning it around...

_I warned you not to lie to me, and still you have, with every sweet false gesture and smile. Killing you will be the sweetest thing..._

It will be easy to walk to my chamber, to open the door and stealthily approach the bed, kneeling down over her. I'll put the dagger against her throat and let it rest there for a moment, and then I'll point it at her heart. A swift plunge and there won't be time anymore for betrayal. This torment will stop once and for all.

I can see it all through my mind, these images bathed in a green light coming from strange emerald clouds that I see through the window... The knowing of my intent dawning on her face, her eyes pleading with me but knowing that it's too late. I realise now that the seeds for this were sown on our first meeting at Winterfell; all the burning anger of these last two years building up inevitably to this moment...

I move slowly with the dagger in my hand, making my way to the room, the door a black rectangle emerging from the shadows. Images appear on the surface of the door: I see Sansa with her face ravaged by tears and despair after a beating; I hear her asking me to stop hurting her while I grasp her wrist roughly; I remember when days after her father had been executed, the King had ordered me to get her out of her bed and I had lifted her up from it like a broken doll.

I'm rooted to where I'm standing. The spell breaks and I'm brought up from the depths of my madness. _What was I thinking of?_ The dagger burns my hand; I sheath it and slide it fast in a shadowed corner of the room. Am I such a spineless coward that I'll kill a helpless girl, this precious girl that I've tried to protect, because I cannot stand fear, even these fears?

I return to my spot near the door and sit down again. I'm so shocked by what I almost did that it breaks my resistance, and finally I let myself surrender to the terror and the emptiness that have shadowed me for so long. I blow out the candle, take a cushion from the divan and bury my face in it to muffle the deep racking sobs that come up instantly. There is no thought anymore, just this sea of pain and terror, the howling vulnerability... Each sob wrenches from my chest like it's tearing it apart, burning with the same brazier fire in which my face was shoved in by my brother. The tears burn my eyes too, like some poison inside of me is coming out. It is excruciating, unbearable and yet I endure it; as it pours out of me I see other things that were yet hidden deeper inside of me. I'm remembering that as hard she tried to pretend and lie in order to protect herself nobody believed it; that's why she kept getting beaten. Even I had told her how bad a liar she was; that _a hound could smell lies..._ But I hadn't sniffed any, except for the little white ones, since I had caught her from her flight... Yes, she had been terrified of me and repulsed by my burned face in the past, but this had changed; only I was so full of mistrust and fear that I hadn't dared to believe it...

Then the despair returns and tells me _to stop deceiving myself again_ and I feel engulfed in it like a small ship in a stormy sea. I fight it by trying to keep thinking that _everything cannot have been a lie, it cannot... If it is, let me die..._

I don't know what makes me realize that it has stopped. I must have dozed off for a bit; I feel much disoriented as my gaze circles blindly in the black room. As much as I strain, I see nothing, hear nothing and smell nothing. I feel like I'm floating in a dark void where time seems to have stopped and nothing exists. Am I dead already? Have I killed her? I don't know anything anymore.

The door at the end opens silently, eerily, with a light emerging, candles inside a lamp carried by a slight barefooted silhouette covered in a long green tunic. The light blinds me and I cover my eyes. I feel the footsteps coming nearer, and I wonder if this is death coming to me, to finally release me.

I uncover my eyes and look up at the vision, which looks exactly like Sansa Stark, the perfect mix of child and woman. Is the Stranger appearing to me in the guise of this girl that I love? She kneels in front of me, putting the lamp down carefully on the nothingness. She gazes at me with such complete, deep compassion that I'm filled with shame and remorse. I avert my face from her gaze, sobbing again. _She has come back from the dead to bring me with her,_ _and I want to go..._

"Sandor, look at me. _Look_ at me." What an irony it is to hear my own words flung back at me, but in a much gentler tone!

I find the courage to do it, and she brings out one of the gossamer scarves that we bought yesterday and gently wipes my face with it. Then I sigh deeply.

"I killed her... I knew that she let me bed her because she was grateful and felt pity for me. Not that I was not thankful for it, mind you. But I went mad."

She shakes her head. "Stop that! Nobody could ever pity you; you're so strong, brave and fierce. She feels safe with you and cares about you."

"She shouldn't!" I whisper. "I'm a killer."

"Shhh... I was dreaming, a strange dream with green clouds and I heard strange sounds. When I woke, you were gone and I realised that sounds had been real, coming from this room; _from you._ You had a nightmare, that's all."

_So strong in some parts and yet so fragile in others_! We complete each other. She comes nearer, leaning down and embracing me, while she brings up a hand to rest against the right part of my face and head; the burned half full of twisted, pitted burned red flesh. Her fingers are caressing and stroking softly and it feels like a healing balm on this untouched, most repulsive part of me. Silent tears leak out of my eyes, and when she stops, I feel humbled, like a broken down old dog. I bring her hand to my lips and kiss it.

"Sandor, our two destinies are joined now. Never forget it."

She gets up and extends a hand to me.

"Come. You can rest now."

I get up obediently and she takes my hand. I let her lead me without any resistance, feeling like the little boy I was, the boy who has been given a chance to finally walk away from that brazier.

**EPILOGUE**

In the morning, when I wake up in the cabin at sea, lying down in the bed with my little bird nestled against me, I'm finally sure that this was not a vision and that we're both alive. But I know that from now on I'll have to protect her from _me too. _

_I know that all of the feelings of last night will come again; I've just started their release. But I've managed to survive facing them and have stopped struggling against them. Maybe I'll speak with Thoren about them when they return. He's always been good to me._

_I know now that the gift was for me, as I had madly hoped it to be. Life is not so awful after all._

I have slept deeply, and it is later than my usual rising. In my groggy state, a long buried memory suddenly emerges; a memory that had been lost in wine and time, and I've not remembered it until now. Now I understand why I had forgotten it – I must have gotten very drunk as to drown it into oblivion.

I see it all vividly as if it had just happened, even if it's four years in the past. I'm again at this feast, a grand Lannister feast with the lights, the noise, the tents and the games and all of the people. I have a break from my sworn shield duties. It is night. A foreign woman with colourful clothes and kerchief comes out of a tent and beckons me to her. I look away.

"Come, warrior! I felt your presence and seen your fortune in the cards."

I snort in disdain. "I have no use of such things, fortune teller. I make my own way."

She smiles knowingly. "I know; you're the most feared fighter in the West! Come, what I have to tell you is important."

"You'll not entice with your lies; I don't believe in that fucking nonsense and I have no intention of paying!"

"You won't have to. When I do a real reading, I don't charge anything. It's the price to keep the gift."

I give in, as I realize she won't let me go, and I have nothing to lose. We enter her tent, and she makes me sit across her from a small table where cards are displayed in an obscure pattern. She smiles at me and I let out an already exasperated sigh.

"Go on with it then, woman!"

My impatience makes her chuckle. _A rare one who looks at me straight in the face and who's not scared of me..._ _Maybe she has something worthy to say._ She looks at the cards, then she shifts her gaze on my intently.

"In the future, I see a division in the path that you've walked all your life, a new fork. If you choose to continue following the old path, you'll lose everything and wander off without purpose, on a futile quest. You'll die prematurely young, a miserable death full of loneliness and regrets. If you choose the new path, you'll be with the love of your life."

_I should have known it._

I laugh bitterly. "The love of my life? You really must think me a fool. Have you looked at my face? And I'm even worse than I look."

"No matter, there will be a fair, innocent maiden from the north. She will love you. Not at first, not for a long time, as she will fear you and run from you, until the day that she'll start to appreciate you as you are; for your strength, your true qualities and faithful nature. She'll need your help and this will be dangerous. But taking that new path will be harder for you than to keep to the old one, as you will have to reject all the old rules of obedience and duty that you've been taught and have followed; leave your old life behind. You'll also have to let go of your armor, the one inside that is a lot thicker than the one outside. But in doing so, you'll be able to heal from the past, live with your beloved far away from here, know some peace, and still be able to have the adventures and violence that your nature craves. In saving this girl, it's you who will be saved. Choose wisely.

_I have._


	14. Chapter 14

**CHAPTER XIV**

**Sansa's Journal**

I have a beautiful house near the sea.

While it is not on the scale of the castles that I've lived in all my life, it is big enough for Sandor, I and our household. Apart from its size, this house is so different from western architecture. It is build for the heat, with thick walls, arched windows covered with blinds to tame the sun and keep the large, airy rooms cool. The floors are made of marble, the walls dark blue. All the other rooms radiate from the round common room: the chambers on the left wing, kitchen; storage and servants rooms on the right wing. The privy itself is incredible with mirrors, colourful ceramics and a big marble tub. All this cold marble would have been unthinkable where I was born, in the north part of Westeros; the last castle before the ice wall that spanned the width of the continent.

The house itself is in shades of blue and green, with an interior courtyard with high walls to keep from prying eyes. There's a locked gate that opens to the sand and the sea. We have a shaded balcony that gives us full view of the sea, the sunrises and sunsets. There's always a cooling breeze on the evenings. Being born in the North, I had though of myself before as being a northern girl; but my lady mother came from the south, and since I had come to King's Landing, I had found the climate more suited to my temperament. I'm more like my lady mother in this.

I have noticed that all the houses in this city are built similarly; no windows on the front part and these enclosed courtyards. People here prefer to shelter their private lives from the outside world, and only by being invited in their homes can we become part of their lives. And as Sandor mentioned, it makes it quite hard for thieves to get into a house.

We do not know any people yet, as our settling here in this house has been quite recent. Sandor had brought Booka and the Unsullied from the ship with us, hired a cook and a maid to take care of the household duties.

After Volantis, we sailed around Valyria, the fabled peninsula that was once home to the dragons, the Targaryen. Sandor had told me that some mysterious, unknown catastrophe had shattered it in many pieces, all black and smoking still, where it was impossible to go. We crossed the Bay of Grief, to stop next at Astapor in Slavers Bay, docking there for three days. Sandor had bought a slave, and then set him free to work for him. I had been awed and scared of the eunuch appearance: muscled with amber skin and a shaved head. There was never any expression neither in his almond eyes nor his face. Sandor told me that they were gelded young and trained from their childhoods to become the ultimate warriors, with no feelings or emotions to get in the way of their vocations. They we called the Unsullied, and it seemed that the custom in the Slaver's Cities was to change their names every day.

Our own Unsullied had settled like a shadow on the freighter. He slept on the floor near our door in the sitting room, did work on the ship like any other sailor, and after a week of sailing from Astapor, chose a name for himself. When Sandor had told him of his horse and what his name had represented, he chose Stranger for his own. _How fitting for a killing machine._ While he was very courteous and deferent, his emotionless face always made me uneasy.

While I had found the city of Astapor beautiful, even I had sensed its deathly ambience, with its trading of slaves, where a human life didn't count for much except as a commodity. When I had made short visits to the city, I had been escorted by both Booka and Stranger, because I was told that a beautiful northern girl like me was prized and would fetch a very high price as a bed slave. Sandor had been too busy with the ship's business to be able to accompany me. While I was starting to get tired of being confined on the ship, I didn't complain when we finally left Astapor.

We had sailed on to Quarth, one of the biggest ports in the world and a forbidding, closed off culture and people, to cross the gates of the Jade Sea and ended up at Yin, a smaller city between the islands of Great Morak and Leng.

We had been wearied of being on the ship for months, and had stayed there at an inn with Booka and Stranger, while the captain made his last two dockings: Jinqi and Asshai. When he had sailed back, he had come directly from Asshai, and we had told him of our decision to settle there; the house had already been purchased. We both liked it there, each for our different reasons: Sandor thought that while it was not big as some other cities that we had visited, it was big enough for opportunities, contacts and news from Westeros; I loved its nearness to the sea, beautiful houses and wonderful market, which was called here a _souk._ The people here look like a breed between darker skinned persons like Booka and the amber almond eyed ones like Stranger. The men dress in embroidered long tunics and pants and the women too, with often a dress of fitted bodices with big sleeves and skirts. Most of them have either black or very dark brown hair with a mix of curly or straight.

I had grown attached to the captain. Upon his return, he had married us on the ship, and that had been a most scary and wonderful moment too; being tied for life to another; something that would have been impossible in Westeros. While Sandor was not a commoner, he was of minor nobility; a rank no high enough to be able to marry a highborn girl like me. What I remember most about the brief ceremony was his eyes; smoldering and possessive, both our joined hands shaking. I was happy about the simplicity of a wedding at sea: no lewd guests cheering us on, no one to carry both of us to our chamber for the bedding.

I had felt very sad when we had watched the freighter sailing away from the harbor, although he had said that he would come back next year to stop and visit us. But having learned how precarious and uncertain the fates could be, that nothing could be taken for granted, I had felt a pinch in my heart.

While time has passed - making things easier between Sandor and me - we are still very shy of each other. I am young, and it is my first time with a man; I have no experience of the intricacies of an intimate bond; my nature is naturally reserved. Although Sandor, being older, having had experience with women, they were only about the physical part; in this, he as young as I.

In the morning, getting up earlier than I, Sandor, Booka and Stranger practice with their weapons in the courtyard, and I often drink my first cup of tea watching them from the balcony. I practice new songs, write in the mornings too and deal with the cook and the maid for what's to be done for the day. After the noon meal, we take a nap, as is the custom here; the sun being too hot in the afternoons. I often go visit the city and the market escorted by either one of them; I have to admit that we have purchased a lot of things, and sometimes I feel guilty and apprehensive about it. Sometimes Sandor goes out either in the afternoon or at night at watering holes to listen, meet people.

As for the physical part between us, I had been surprised, as from the first, how pleasant it could be, so different from the dark side that had been my first introduction to men's desires, and how much I enjoyed it. But it didn't happen as often as I had expected it would. Although I had no knowledge of these things, I thought sometimes that Sandor was restraining himself as not to bother me, both in his demands and expression, and that he yielded to his desires only when he couldn't hold himself anymore. I often saw him from the corner of my eye looking at me intensely, with a heavy hooded stare, but when I caught him at it he would look away immediately. However much I questioned myself sometimes, I had no female to confide in, and was much too shy to broach the subject with him. We often spent evenings lounging on the padded bench on the balcony, with his arms around my shoulder, often kissing the top of my head; sometimes we would just gaze at the sea, sometimes talking long in the night.

My nightmares were coming less frequently now in this new life and I had thought that everything was enfolding nicely and slowly, until Sandor came to me one night with news about Westeros, and my world was destroyed once again.


	15. Chapter 15

**CHAPTER XV**

**Sandor**

It was the damned eunuch that had started the problems.

From the beginning, I could see that Sansa was intimidated by him, by his expressionless face and being of very foreign nature to her. She gave him a wide berth, but when she couldn't, she treated him with the awed reverence that I had come to know appears when she is afraid of somebody. Of course, I hadn't reacted to him that way, treating exactly the same as I did everybody else, telling him stories of where I came from, of battles; the knights, the seven gods, the politics and even of my horse that I missed. Then I regretted having told him that, when he decided to take my horse's name for his own. I couldn't order him not to, as it had been his lot in life to have others give him a new name everyday – _how could the masters remember a different name not only for him, but for hundreds of eunuchs, I couldn't understand that_ – but it felt mighty strange to call him by the name of my former horse, and of the Death God.

He shadowed me all the time, exactly like a sworn shield, and everywhere I went I had him underfoot. He had even started sleeping on the floor on the other side of my chamber's door on the ship, and continued to do so at our house too. Here I was, for the first time in my life having a dwelling of my own and a wife - and had even less privacy then I had at the Red Keep - and not much room to enjoy them, with him being near all of the time.

So one morning, as I was breaking my fast, I told him what was on my mind.

" Stranger, there is no need to sleep by my door. I almost stumbled on you this morning."

"This one doesn't mind. It is his duty to protect his master."

"I didn't hire you to protect me, as I don't need it. And who do you think will attack me in my chambers? My wife? She's just a little bird. If you want to protect me so much, sleep by the back or by the front door. Or better yet, sleep in one of the rooms in the servant's quarters."

"This one doesn't need a room."

I sighed exasperatedly though my teeth. "Well, _this one_ needs you to do it, orders you to do it. I need intimacy, privacy, space. Understand?"

Sansa can say that he doesn't express any emotions, but I don't agree. With me he expresses a lot, although in a subtle manner; he even laughed once. For the moment, bewilderment has appeared in his eyes.

"No. Why?"

It's not the first time that I've stumbled on gaps – no, abysses - between western and eastern thinking. They seem to have no set boundaries in the physical part; they stand closer together while eating, working, speaking – even fucking I'm sure. I was used more to that kind of closeness if my earlier life, with lots of men sleeping in the same common room, with sharing whores; but I won't start with that, trying to explain the difference between a wife and a whore.

"Stranger, try to think of it like this. You, when you need to go into your mind, you retreat into yourself. For us westerners, we also need physical distance, walls and closed doors to achieve that. We need more space than you do."

He looks at me appraisingly. "This one will reflect on that, and will do as you wish."

He looks sceptical, but I know now that I'll have some peace.

It's hard to be angry with him, as being so impassive and calm nothing gets to him; he just reflects back the anger on me. _Can't complain about him, though._ When we train every morning, it's not I who's doing the training on Booka, but him training us. He's teaching both of us about eastern combat techniques, a lot of them not including fighting as such. He's taught us about meditation, sitting cross legged on the ground, emptying our minds of everything, breathing deeply and concentrating on the core of our beings for the emotions needed for successful combat. I felt foolish at first doing this, but after seeing him in action, so fast that his gestures had seemed a blur, I applied myself to it. Sometimes Booka had tried to distract me by grinning and winking at me while we did this and Stranger always caught him at it.

"The obstacle with you," he would say to Booka, "is that you take things too lightly." And then he would look at me. "For you it is the ever present anger and impatience. Both keep you from being truly focused."

I didn't need any eastern combat specialist to know that, but I remained silent, as his teachings had started right away to show changes in my way of fighting. Integrating western and eastern ways made for a lethal combination.

I had started scouting for news, for the feel of this city, its customs and opportunities by using the three of us to gather information. Booka, with his easy going nature, could go places I couldn't and mingle without creating mistrust or havoc; Stranger, being eastern, could blend in anywhere and listen. For my part, I had discovered small communities of westerners. It had surprised me at first, as I had not expected to find any this far east; but I had realised that I wasn't the only one wanting to be as far as possible from Westeros. I had no worries for most of these counterparts recognising me and blabbing about me, as they too wanted their whereabouts to remain unknown. Spies were few and far in between here, being too far away from the Free Cities and the centers of the real power. So I was at ease with that.

We had also learned that the people of Yin, especially the wealthy ones, had a great thirst for combat, for any kind of combat: between men, dog fights, rooster's fights, even spider fights. Each man would capture a huge spider, starve it for a week, and then they would have two of these spiders fight to the death, each trying to devour the other, to the cries and cheers of those who wagered. It was fascinating.

I had figured that if I wanted my skills to become known, and let an opportunity find me, that I had to join in the fighting pits. It was happening three times a week; some fistfights, knives, swords, maces. The ones with the weapons were to the death – _no gallant jousting here._ Under the guidance of Stranger, I started with western opponents; sometimes with swords, sometimes with maces; standing high on a ledge until one of the two of us managed to oust his opponent by making him fall to his death far below on the ground. This was serious fighting, like in war, and it made the winning all the sweeter because of it. It was not only a matter of losing money for the opponents, but of losing their lives.

As I got to fight stronger and stronger opponents, the wagering would get higher, and my cut of it bigger. While I liked having opponents again to have a taste of my steel, the money was motivating too. I had spent a lot of funds buying property and maintaining my household, and couldn't save anymore to make my stash grow, so I had to make more money as not to exhaust it. I wanted some of it to stay in the bank and grow, in the case that I would die, not wanting to leave Sansa with nothing.

Ah, Sansa... My little lady and another one of my bewilderments... Since our first night of intimacy, I have kept a close check on my feelings, as not to open myself too much to them and bring up the darkness in me. I am still reeling from the mix of anger, jealousy and fears that had overwhelmed me, even if I had spoken of them to Thoren. When I join her on the balcony at night, she always greets me with a smile. I still can't believe that she's there with me instead of running away from me and my anger at the Red Keep, with more than a world to separate me from her.

Sometimes, my cravings and desires would seize me, and I would stare at her for a long time with them in my eyes and face, smoldering with them, and then she would feel the stare, looking up at me with a kind of pleading in her big blue eyes, and I would look away, feeling like a beast. But whenever I touched her, sat close to her, embraced her, she would always sigh contently, smile and seem at ease with the closeness. And having Stranger underfoot often killed my urges. I certainly didn't want him to hear everything from the other side the door. So I think that it was definitively time that I had this conversation with him this morning. Things will get more comfortable, hopefully.

That evening, as I enjoy a night out at the westerner watering hole, drinking wine, and conversations are very animated, as a ship bringing goods has also delivered the last news from Westeros. While being very far from it, and news taking longer to get to us, they still reach us. A lot has happened lately, and as I listen I get an increasing feeling of dread and keep getting quieter and quieter. As I've learned all I can bear to hear, I leave abruptly, encountering Stranger outside and making our way back to the house, gloom enveloping me. For the first time, I regret the presence of westerners here and wish that we would have settled even further from the known world, in the jungles of Sothoryos for all I care. How am I going to tell her?

That same night, I have the strangest dream.

_I had left King's Landing, alone. I had sharp memories of Blackwater's Bay battle, with the fire everywhere: in the sky, in the water, on the ships and even on the men battling, burning alive before my horrified eyes. I had lost half of my men, and had refused to make a third sortie. I had packed my horse with all that he could carry; food, coins, clothes. I had drunk a lot, and things started to get muddled as I had made my way up the stairs, to a certain room. I had dozed in her bed, and when I had heard the door open and her light footsteps, excitement had sparked in me. But it was too late and I already had lost control of myself; so angry at her being still unable to look at me and her refusal to leave the city with me; the green light in the room. With my dagger at her throat, I had forced her to sing a song, and had cried after. _

_Then I had started my aimless wanderings, thinking vaguely of going north. I had been careless and been caught while sleeping off a drunk by the Free Men without Banners, where I had met again several men I had known in King's Landing and a girl, the little bird's sister. They had kept taunting me and I had kept laughing, telling them to kill me and be done with it. Matters had been settled by a combat with Beric Dondarrion, with his fucking sword on fire, and I had won and they had set me free, as by the laws of their Red God I was declared innocent. They had taken all my gold for their cause, and I had followed them for a long while, trying to get it back. But it was gone south and I had captured the she wolf while she had ventured foolishly by herself outside. _

_I had meant to take her back to the Twins, so I could get ransom money and be on my way then. She had been a real hardship to deal with; fighting me all the way, trying to kill me – the complete opposite of her pretty sister. I had a Stark girl, yes, but not the one that I had wanted. _

_But then things had had continued to turn to shit again. The wedding between Catelyn Stark's brother and a Frey girl had turned into a bloodbath; Walder Frey, being insulted by Robb Stark's not having respected his vow to marry one of his daughters, had him killed, their mother Catelyn, and killed off the Starks bannermen. We had arrived too late and had to retreat. We went on without purpose, staying for a while at a village while I helped them build a palisade in exchange for food and shelter, but after it had been finished, we were invited to leave. Then more aimless wanderings, until we had stopped at an inn, because of my increasing thirst for wine. Of all the unlucky things, we had met my brother's men, and they had told me that Joffrey had been poisoned at his own wedding feast by the Imp and his little wife, the Stark girl. I had to sit down to digest this, my mouth twitching and I had drunk a full cup of wine in one swallow. So reckless of me to have drunk too much on an empty stomach with these rats, but I didn't care anymore and I had to fight them off in my drunken state, slow and clumsy, with the help of the she wolf. We all killed them off, but I had gotten a lot of bad wounds, and the one in my thigh had gotten infected; I was feverish, hurting, dying. Bitterness and regrets, as fiery as my pain, had burst out of me; all centered on what I should and shouldn't have done with the pretty bird, hatred at the Imp having had her. I begged the she wolf for the gift of mercy, but she left me there, and then –_

- I wake up with a start, my face wet with sweat, my heart hammering like thunder beats in my chest. I look around me wildly, and see our chamber in our house by the sea, feel the comfort of my own bed and little bird's presence beside me. I let out a big sigh of relief, but I know then that what I'd heard last night was true, and my heart sinks.

Before the last day of my life at King's Landing, I had believed that the fates were random and cruel; that what happened had no signification except for pain, bits of happiness scattered, but since then, my mind had been changed for me, whether I willed it or not. I feel that there are certain forces in the world stronger than the will of men. I drift back to my memories of what the fortune teller had told me years ago, the old and new path, and I believe now that this is what I dreamed of, this old path that I had left. I don't understand why it had come to me in a dream, but there were too many details, colours and feelings in it for it to be a random dream; more like a memory of something that hasn't happened _yet has somewhere else._ I feel as if I had lived every moment of it, in the short span before I had woken up.

While I accept this, my mind cannot keep wondering on certain details of the dream. In it, she was still betrothed to Joffrey; there had been no pursuit by the knights, and I had continued my long slide to self destruction... There had been no chance of it being otherwise. Then why had it still occurred? I feel that if I continue to dwell on this that my mind will tie itself in knots, and I let it go. On one hand it was lucky for me that I had taken the right path, but as for Sansa... It was bad. Certain things cannot be avoided; they still happen.

I get up and go to the side of the bed, squatting down quietly and gazing at her. She's in a sweet slumber, her features relaxed and so pure in their innocence; my heart pinches and my mouth twitches. She has seemed happy enough here, more peaceful, singing and playing her mandolin, smiling often. To think that I'll be the one to shatter this is unbearable...

Some king of instinct must have alerted her to my presence and turmoil, as she opens her eyes suddenly, wide awake, concern growing on her face as she looks at me.

"What the matter, Sandor? Is something wrong?"

I extend my hand to touch her hair. "Nothing, sweet thing. Now that I'm looking at you, I feel good."

Her face relaxes with tenderness, and she gives me a big smile. I stroke her hair slowly as I like to do it, and she sighs contently and takes my other hand to bring it to her cheek. I wish that this would last forever, but it cannot. I kiss her forehead then get up to start my day. Before I leave the chamber, I see that she's fallen asleep again.


	16. Chapter 16

**CHAPTER XVI**

**Sandor**

I struggle all day long with this new knowledge that I have; wondering when the good moment to tell it to her will occur; how to say it, what should I do... It seems so horrendous to have to say these things that I even think about not telling her, figuring that as she's cut off from the world, she doesn't know people here and doesn't go to the places I visit; she'll never know. _What she doesn't know won't hurt her..._ But I know that this is the coward's way of thinking and that eventually she'll know people, hear something, and I don't want to betray her by having her learn of it from strangers.

I decide that I will tell her in the evening, so that she can have a last day of carefree joy.

In the morning, we train hard, but it's not enough for me so I have Booka bring me a big board of wood, and I throw my dagger at it in a vicious way for a long while, having chased him and Stranger away. I'm glad to see that she doesn't appear on the balcony this time.

In the afternoon, I take her to the souk, letting her have whatever her little heart desires, whatever it costs, and we stroll through it for a long time, enjoying the breeze, the colours and excitement, her arm entwined with mine.

I have the cook prepare her favourite meal. In the evening, after having watched the sunset on the balcony, I bring her to the common room, and before we sit down, I embrace her for a long time, feeling her melt against me, then I bid her to sit and after she has done it, I sit down too. Her eyes have grown concerned again as she looks at me.

"Sandor, I felt that something was wrong since I woke up. I'm getting disquieted. Are you going to tell me now?"

I sigh deeply, closing my eyes for a moment, then look at her.

"Yes, we'll speak of it now. I've had news from Westeros. Some of it is good, but most of it is bad. Do you want to hear it?"

"Well, yes. Those news concern me?"

"Yes."

I tell her first about Joffrey's death. She frowns. "You've said that it was the Imp that had him poisoned? I would never have believed it of Tyrion."

"It seems that he's the guilty party. They're going to put him on trial for it. But what is most important, for you, is that Joff's gone now; he'll never be able to hurt and torment you again. You're safe now from him."

She doesn't say anything, and I can see that she's taking her time to reflect on it, closing her eyes too. When she looks up at me again, she's clutching at my shirt, and I take her hands between mine.

"I feel that there's a lot more, Sandor. I'm afraid, but please tell me."

I really don't know how to begin, but I think that if I go at it hesitantly it will stretch out the pain even more.

"It's about Winterfell. Theon Greyjoy and his band from the Iron Islands attacked it. With it being defenceless, they managed to sack and burn it, killing everybody in it."

She goes stiff with incredulity. "It's not possible! Our castle has stood for eight thousand years! It cannot be..." Then she hesitates, looking on the brink of an abyss of her own, speaking haltingly. "Brandon... and Rickon... they were spared, weren't they? To become hostages to the Greyjoy?"

My voice is becoming raspier and raspier. "No, little bird. They displayed their heads on spikes."

She has started to breathe rapidly, her throat working, her eyes getting huge. "There is more, isn't it? I feel it from looking at you. Please finish this."

I feel like I'm a hundred years old. "When you mother negotiated passage across the Trident at the Twins, she made an agreement with Walder Frey, that Robb would marry one of his daughters in exchange for having been granted passage. Robb rescinded this promise, having fallen in love with some girl then marrying her. Your mother tried to repair the situation by having her brother marry one of Frey's daughters. Walder Frey seemed to agree. But when the wedding took place, he had your brother and mother killed, his men attacking and killing the Northmen."

She bows her head then, the slender stem of it looking like a flower that has been broken, and I feel it too, feel the places in me that were not already broken shattering in pieces. She has removed her hands from mine, joining them together so hard that her knuckles are turning white. Except for this, she's completely still, her face and features having the colour and set of marble. I look at her refined profile, so young and pure, and a lump forms in my throat.

The she gets up abruptly and looks at me with a blank expression and blue haunted eyes.

"I'm sorry Sandor, but I need to be alone for a while. Thank you for having told me the truth, as usual. I'm going in the chamber now."

I raise an arm to keep her here with me but I know that it's futile and I let it fall against my side. Taking very slow, careful steps, she goes in, and I hear the click of the door closing, then I don't hear any more sounds.

It is I who is agitated. I clench and unclench my fists; I press my lips together in a hard line, and my gaze keep going back to the flagon of wine on the table. I've never felt such a raging thirst before - I could sob from it - but I know that I cannot send myself into oblivion now like a coward. To keep the temptation at bay, I rise and walk in the direction of the servant's quarters, calling Booka and Stranger. They come right away, and when they see my face, their expressions change too, even Stranger's. Booka takes me by the arm and brings us to his room, and makes me sit on his bed, while they stand up, facing me. I doesn't take me long to tell them everything, and when I'm done, Stranger is blinking and Booka has turned grey. I look up at them in torment.

"Was it right, to tell her? I feel like I've betrayed and destroyed her."

"Master Hound, telling the truth is always right. Not your fault if you had to bring her bad tidings."

"But it feels like shit. I want you now to bring out of my reach all of the wine; hide it where I won't find it, for tonight at least."

I wait until they have finished the task as I have bid them, and crossing the common room, I enter our chamber. The sun has set a long moment ago, and it is pitch dark. I have to wait for my eyes to get accustomed to the dark, as I don't want to disturb her with a light. Then I see her under the covers, completely motionless, her eyes wide open.

"Sansa?"

She doesn't move nor acknowledge my presence. I sigh, then remove my tunic and get under the covers too. I turn on my side to get nearer, to take her in my arms. Her body is stiff, unyielding like the board on which I had practiced earlier, and I stop my efforts, while still remaining close. This reminds me of the time at King's Landing when she took to her bed after her father's execution. Except that this time, the loss is even more devastating... Usually, she will cry and cry when she's hurt, and this immobile state, the lack of expression fills me with dread.

I've vowed that I won't fall asleep until she does, to keep guard over her. Attuned as I've gotten to the ways she moves and breathes when she sleeps, I know as the hours pass that she's still awake, and I can notice her blink once in a while, and in spite of repeated attempts to touch her, speak to her, she remains the same. I find it harder and harder to keep awake. All the turmoil of the day has caught up to me, and my body and my mind are exhausted. My eyelids are getting so heavy, I decide to keep them closed for a few moments, just to rest my eyes, and then I know nothing anymore.

I don't know what startles me awake; the rising sun, the deep quiet and absence of sound, but when I sit up, I find her gone. I jump on my feet and put on hurriedly my tunic, as I open the curtains and look outside. My heart and breathing stop when I spot a figure in a long blue tunic, strands of copper hair floating in the wind, walking on the sand below toward the sea. She has waited until I had drifted off, knowing that having had a sleepless night that I would be sleeping hard and be oblivious to everything.

I run to the servant's quarters and shout out Booka's and Stranger's names. The urgency in my voice must have interrupted their sleep right away, and both of them appear at the same time, Stranger's face wide awake and Booka with swollen eyes.

"Run to the beach now! She walking into the sea, and I don't know how to fucking swim!"

We all run to the back door, which is unlocked as I had expected it to be, and go through it in a flash. We go down the stairs, cross the courtyard and unlock the last gate, leaving it opened. I'm furious at how clumsy it feels running in the sand, my feet sinking every step of the way, all the mounds of it slowing me down. I spy her walking slowly through the water, the waves having reached her waist already. I give a mighty shout.

"Sansa, stop right now! Sansa, STOP!"

I know that she must have heard me, but nothing seem to penetrate the trance that she's in, and she continues advancing. As much as running on the sand is cumbersome, I still reach the shore first, being the tallest of us, but it's not much use, and I tremble with frustration. The water has reached her shoulders now, and I turn back to check Booka and Stranger's progress. When they finally arrive where I am, the water has come up to her neck. Both of them run in the water and as they dive under it, her head disappears.

I discover just when I stop that I've been sobbing wildly, and now I hear only the sound of the waves as they've covered up everything else, as it had never existed before. The eeriness of it immobilises me where I am standing, feeling like I've reached the end of the world. _I don't know what I'll do if none of them appear again._ Then suddenly the pattern of the waves changes, and she shoots out of the water like a sea creature, with both men catching her as she comes down again. She's struggling with such force that it takes both of them to subdue her. They swim back with Sansa held up between them, and when they reach the sand, she falls down on her knees, sputtering and vomiting floods of seawater. They both sit down on the sand, exhausted, and I approach and fall down on my knees in front of her, shaking her.

"What do you think you were doing, you little fool?"

She doesn't answer. Her eyes are glazed and she's starting to shake badly, her teeth shattering. I scoop her up in my arms and carry her through the open door, while shouting instructions to both men.

"One of you who knows of a healer, get me one now! "

Like I thought, it was the Unsullied who knows it. I know that the city holds no secrets for him now.

I get up the stair and hurry to our chamber, dropping her gently on the bed. The maid is there, having been awakened by the upheaval, and I bark instructions at her too.

"Bring me bath cloths, a blanket and a thicker nightdress. After that, be ready to answer the door for the healer."

I wait until she comes back with what I asked, and relieve Sansa of her sodden tunic, blotting off her wet and shaking body quickly, sponging off her dripping hair. I dress her up like a doll with the cotton nightdress, and to finish, wrap her up in the blanket. Through all this she has remained docile enough, her limbs having lost the stiffness and her eyes, while being bleary, don't have the glazed look anymore. She's shaking a lot still, and I pick her up again, striding to the common room to sit down on the divan, cradling her against me like a child. I'm warm enough for two after all that moving about. I rock her slowly and hold her tight, and the shaking gradually subsides and stops. Then I'm finally able to let out several deep breaths of relief. I stop rocking, and moving her about a bit, bend my neck to look at her. A bit of colour has come back to her face, and while her eyes are swollen and red, they're getting more focused now. Her voice, when she opens her mouth to speak, is terribly hoarse.

"You're angry... sorry..."

"Ssshh, no sorries now. I'm the one who's sorry, having had to tell you such things. I've never said it before, but... I love you pretty thing. Always did, but didn't know at first; too much of a surly dog to deal with it. Nothing else is as important as long as I have you."

A tear comes out of her eye, and then they start to lose their focus again. I get up and bring her back to the chamber, finding that the maid has been thoughtful enough to change the wet coverlet. I lay her down on it and bring back the covers to keep her warm. I bring up a chair and sit down on it, taking a slim white hand in mine.

As soon as I've settled, I hear the front door opening, and spy Stranger and Booka escorting a medium sized man in long robes and a hat. He comes straight away to the chamber, looking at Sansa on the bed and at me without batting an eye. He raises an eyebrow questioningly.

"She got a tremendous shock last night, having learned that she's lost most of her family due to wars in the west. She almost drowned this morning."

"Oh, bad that is. May I?"

I nod. He removes the covers from her, and starts an excruciatingly long and precise examination that sets my teeth on edge. Then he brings out a leather pouch, from which he extracts a wooden case and a bottle of milky liquid. He puts both of them on the nightstand, and then opens the case. In it I spy long needles, and my gasping brings his head around to me.

"What the fuck is that? Don't tell me that you'll use them on her?"

"Harmless they are, no pain caused," he replies in a mild manner. "With shock, in the body the balance is disturbed. The needles bring it back."

I'm feeling quite sceptical when he brings one out. It is big, and it seems like a gruesome treatment. I'm thinking that if it causes her pain, I'll stop it right away. I wince when he inserts the first one on the side of her neck, but seeing that her face doesn't contract from the pain of it, I sit back and let him to do. He applies a lot of them, and soon she has a lot of them raised up on her body, like a strange and vulnerable figure ready for a sacrifice. He waits about five or ten minutes, then removes them one by one and puts them back in the case. He clears his throat to get my attention.

"Bad is grief – I can't know how long it lasts. You are an impatient and passionate a man, no good for overall balance. You eed to be more patient for this. This bottle is milk of poppy. Give three spoons after an hour of waking. Shocked mind needs a lot of sleep and rest. Do for three or four days, give broth of meat at the same time."

"She'll get better?"

"Nothing is certain in these matters. Give time for this."

He brings out a big spoon, and pours out the milky liquid in it. He asks me to hold her head while he spoons it in her mouth. For a moment, I'm afraid that she'll spit it back, but she swallows. I sigh in relief again and he gives me a faint smile. I'm not sure how to feel about him: gratefulness or barking in his face. I choose instead to nod, and we settle on the price of his visit.

Stranger accompanies him to the door, after he's closed it, I beckon to him.

"Bring me back a cup of wine, I badly need it. A big one. It's alright now."

Meanwhile, I check on Sansa, and find out that she's fallen asleep. Her face, while drawn, looks calmer now, and she's breathing regularly. I bend down to kiss her forehead and caress her face with my knuckles. I'm calming down too, as the worst of the danger seems to have passed; for the moment.

Stranger brings me back the cup and closes the door after him. I start gulping from it right away, while I strip down all of my garments from my hot body. I'm feeling now the exhaustion from the worry and sleepless night crashing down on me, and I find that I don't have the strength to finish the cup. I just manage to slip down between the sheets, bringing Sansa closer to me and then falling in a blessed darkness.


	17. Chapter 17

**CHAPTER XVII**

**Sandor**

When I wake up I find that Sansa is still sleeping. It is dusk. I get up quietly and dress in a new set of garments, and leaving the chamber, I cross the common room to the kitchen.

Our cook, Djana is preparing the evening meal; saffron chicken with rice and vegetables. It smells mouth watering, and to my dismay, I find that my stomach is growling and that I'm ravenous. She hears this and smiles at me.

"This will be ready soon, master."

"I need you to prepare broth too from the meat," I reply haltingly in the native tongue, which I'm still learning. "The healer has recommended that she be nourished by this for a few days."

"It will be done."

She's gazing at me with her liquid almond eyes, full of compassion. The men and Djounia, the maid, must have told her what has happened, and I find that I cannot hold her gaze for long. I cannot endure this at the moment; I need my insides firm and settled.

This has been another surprise in settling here. Most people are not repulsed by my burns; I've discovered that they view a scar of this magnitude as a sign of strength; that having survived fire, I was made stronger by it. In this foreign land, I feel more accepted that I had ever been in my native land, which has a lot to say about it, disintegrating my attachment to it even faster. It has also motivated me to integrate, to accept the differences in customs and thinking; to open my mind.

When I return to the common room, I find Booka and Stranger sitting at the table. While I'm the master of this household, I'll not hold with ancient customs and have them segregated to their quarters for meals. They both look up at my approach, and before I sit down, I incline my head and put my clasped hands to my forehead; a gesture that I've learned can cover a lot of things here: respect, reverence, thanks.

I sit down with them. Booka and I are drinking wine, while the eunuch drinks tea, like Sansa. I've never met a man more disciplined than he is: never drinks alcohol, does everything in moderation, carried by a deep core of serenity. I can't fathom it, and probably never will how he is able to achieve this. Booka, while seeming to be his opposite in his demonstrative, emotional and merry way, never loses his head too; he has the same core.

I put down my cup and look at them, and they give me their immediate attention." The only thing that I will ask of you for the next days is to guard the doors, including the chamber's door between the two of you, until I order you otherwise."

A park of puzzlement appears in the eunuch's eyes. "Yes, I know that I had forbidden you to do it, but now is not the time for need of more space."

Djana brings the meal and Djounia joins us soon after. The women speak with each other and both men speak in the common tongue, of normal things, trying to include me, but the emptiness has driven everything out of me and I just listen to the words.

When I go back to the chamber, I find Sansa to be awake; but her open eyes are the only sign of it; they stare blindly at the walls. I just sit on the edge of the bed, looking at her quietly, not touching her as her remoteness seems to forbid it. I don't fucking know what to do. Djounia comes in with a big cup of broth and brings it near her lips very slowly. She tips it toward her lips, and after a moment, Sansa's mouth opens. She drinks from it docilely enough, but in an indifferent, mechanical way, without any change of expression on her face. I give her then more of the milk of the poppy, and she sinks back in a deep, drugged sleep.

The next days bring no change in her state. She sleeps most of the time, and when she's awake, she lies listless in the bed, her head propped up on the pillow, making almost no sounds or movements. She seems indifferent to everything that is around her, including her own body. I know that she sees nothing as her blank eyes just stare and stare. Between the two of them, Djounia and Djana manage to give her a bath and to clean her hair of the salt water. They dry her hair and brush it lovingly until it shines again.

I have to go on, although I feel leached of everything. I know that if she gets better, no use will be served by my becoming a ghost too, by not taking care of my affairs and she waking up to destruction and neglect of our life. We continue our training in the morning, and at night, I either visit the watering holes, listening, or fight in the pits. It is there that I have to be particularly watchful; my hold on life is getting tenuous as she declines, and I have to draw on the pit of anger in my belly, the anger that is festering because of my feeling powerless, and I fight with her image in my head, in her honour; cursing at the gods to prove me wrong, that I was wrong in my bleak unbelieving in the past. _This is my way of praying._ Also, getting about helps me clear my head of the heavy ambience of our house; the focusing on other things brings back a bit of strength.

On the sixth day, before dusk, she refuses to drink from the cup, despite Djounia's patient and persistent coaxing. When she finally stops her efforts, the maid's eyes are filled with despair, and she leaves the room with her head bowed. I had managed through these days to keep the patience and calm that was asked of me, but this destroys my will to continue. I sit down on the edge of the bed and grab her shoulders, smoldering with anger.

"Sansa, you cannot do this. If you go on like this, you'll die."

This has had an effect, as for the second time her eyes clear, and slowly turning her head, she looks up at me.

"I'm so sorry, Sandor." Her voice is hoarse from lack of use, and her words come slowly, like they're taking every last bit of her strength to utter. "The pain... it's too much to bear... Can't live with it... Please, let me die."

I growl. "No! I won't let you! Stop speaking like this!"

"Sorry... I've not been a good wife to you... Not demonstrative and too young to know what to do with a man... Forgive me."

"I don't know anything about these matters either. So don't fret. But if you let yourself die, I'll never forgive you!"

I have to get up, as I feel my control slipping away. I pace around in the chamber, shaking and furious. My fists are clenching and my thoughts are tumbling in panic. I too can't bear this. Then out of the struggle of my thoughts, one detaches itself, less grim from the others, and I hang on to it.

I stop pacing and turn back. "Wait here a moment. I'm coming back."

I find Booka in his room, dozing, and he wakes up with a start at my footsteps. My mouth is set in a determined line.

"I want you to unlock the back door. I'm bringing her to the beach. Take your harmonica with you. I want you to stay close, but out of sight and play of it."

He absorbs this and then frowns.

"Are you certain of this, Master? Is it wise?"

"I don't know."

But I have to try. I get back to the chamber, finding her the same. Pulling back the covers, I lift her up in my arms, finding her lighter than before and walk out to the opened back door. I feel her struggling feebly, and I walk awkwardly thought the treacherous sand, finding a spot near the shore. I sit her down on the sand, and sit down too behind her, settling her between my legs and leaning on my chest. I rest my chin on top of her fragrant head, breathing deeply. The sun is starting its descent in the sky, huge and orange, its rays lighting up the sky in smears of red and gold. The breeze ruffles both our hair, and the waves break up softly on the sand, the water bubbling with foam.

Soon the mournful notes of the harmonica come to blend with these quiet sounds, and I start to feel her trembling. My arms wrap themselves around her, and I feel a light and uncertain hand coming to rest on my forearm. It too starts to tremble, then is clutching my sleeve harder and harder. The notes of the music are getting powerful, soaring on great wings in the air and then I hear mixed with it soft sobbing, then wails and cries that are frightening in their rawness. Her whole chest is throbbing with them. I too start to cry, but silently, with tears running down my face, seeing the great red orb through their veils, the sight of it my first sight of hope, gratitude filling my emptiness with a powerful, savage joy.

Then the music and crying stop, and we stay there for a while, taking in the new quiet that has settled, the breeze drying our tears. I disentangle myself from her and she turns her head to look at me. While her face is wretched, her blue eyes haunted, there's the first sign of clarity in it, then shame appears with the closing of her eyes, the bending of her neck.

"Sandor," she murmurs to my chest. "I feel like I've been mad, what have I done! Hearing this music and seeing the sunset, I felt as if my family were watching me, urging me to go on, for them; I saw them all, I know that they're not completely gone! I'm sorry that I had forgotten that I still have you."

On the next morning, when the healer comes back, I feel that he's pleased to see her awake and more alert. He looks up at me.

"Please, I need to talk to her alone."

"Why?" I ask suspiciously. "This girl has been hurt enough; I don't trust any man."

"Sandor, please. He's a healer."

I press my lips together. "Alright then."

The healer closes the door, and for a while I hear a quiet murmur between them; his calm voice and her little girl's one piping up occasionally.

When he opens the door and leaves the chamber, walking toward me, he smiles his subtle smile, and this time, I don't feel like punching him.

"It is good, very good. The worst has passed; she has come back to life. You've been patient. Continue to do what you have been doing."

She has started to eat again; a bit of bread with her broth, and I have discussed with Djana ways to gradually increase her nourishment without overwhelming her empty stomach.

The progress is slow, but certain. Djounia is training her by having her take increasingly longer walks to regain the use of her legs; she's eating more every day. She still sleeps a lot, long nights and naps in the day, but now her rest is natural, not drug induced. She often goes out to sit at the beach; while Booka and Stranger don't like her being there, I think that she has to grab at any comfort that she can, and I let them keep a discrete watch on her, just in case. I often sit there beside her, just resting and gazing at the waves.

Our house has lost the hushed ambience of sickness and death finally, normal sounds and going on happening again.

I've hired musicians and female singers to come every day to play in our common room. They play melancholic, discordant music with wailing voices, and at first, upon seeing her burst into tears and wail too, I had started to walk toward her, and a firm hand had grabbed my shoulder and I had stopped. Booka had jerked his head at me, to signal us to leave the room, and we had gone in the kitchen.

"Don't do this master. You have to let it go on. She cannot be comforted; the grief has to come out for her to heal."

He was right, but it was awful to bear, to hear that music with her wails and cries louder than those of the others. Then I remembered the night on the ship, when I went through my own demons, and she had let me be until I was done. So I took the habit on these moments to take a much needed ride with my new horse, Storm.

After several weeks, when I feel that she's strong enough to go out again, I take her to the souk at the end of the afternoon, and her eyes soften as she looks up at me and squeeze my arm that she's holding. We walk slowly through the alleys, soaking in the sights and spicy fragrances, and she gazes at things idly, but without her old excitement. As we approach a part that we have not visited much in the past, I hear harsh, raucous cries coming from it. This sparks up an interest and she tugs on my arm in its direction.

As we come up in the alley, I see cages of different sizes, all containing varied birds. The cries are coming from a large cage, and she lets go of my arm and cautiously come closer to it. Keeping a bit of a distance, I spy one of these pretty birds of the Summer Isles, with green, blue and red feathers adorning it. _Just like her._ It has stopped screeching, and is standing up to attention as she getting closer. Then I hear one of the most amazing things.

"Greetings," it says to her in a surprisingly deep and clear voice.

It startles her, and she looks down at it with an expression of delight on her face. She tilts her head to examine it, and the bird does it too, at the same angle. It stretches its neck to the edge of the cage, looking at her inquisitively, and it continues to mimic each of her movement. She straightens and turning her head, gives me one of her dazzling smile. My face heats up and I smile back too, until I spy the seller who's coming nearer, all beaming smiles.

"Lady, this is a wonderful and rare occurrence. The bird has chosen you to be its mistress."

"Oh." She looks at me, hopefully this time, and I sigh, knowing that the battle has been lost before it has even begun. I should have known that this would occur one day, kindred birds meeting each other. So I bow to the inevitable, haggling with the triumphant seller until we reach a price that is suitable for both of us, and bring the fucking bird home.

It has settled on her shoulder, and she walks around the house to show it to the people of our household, demonstrating an excitement and a joy that I had thought that she would never feel again. Everybody greets this with big smiles, except for Stranger, who smiles wryly as our gazes cross with the same expression in them. The bird, as soon as someone is close enough to its reach, stretches its neck to try to bite, including me.

But then it gives me an idea. In the next days, I spend some time with it daily, while Sansa is outside, keeping a prudent distance from it and speaking to it, often cursing at it. The bird and I know that we're natural enemies; he's a male, and the fucking thing has the gall to screech every time that I get close to Sansa, and when it does that, I cover its cage with a dark blanket. When this is done, the stupid thing thinks that it's night and goes to sleep, giving us a bit of peace.

Then one night, as she puts it back in its cage, she sighs and gives me a dejected look.

"I don't understand why Merlin won't speak. I've taught him words, speak to him often, but he remains silent. These birds are supposed to repeat what we say, like you mentioned before."

I shrug with an innocent look on my face. "Don't know why, little bird." I'm starting to get discouraged too. _That damned hard headed bird!_ I come closer to the cage and rattle it a bit. The bird startles and flaps its wings, squawking. Sansa looks shocked.

"Sandor! What are you doing?"

But that has seemed to trigger something, as he looks at Sansa and says: 'Hello, pretty thing."

Her face lights up with happiness and she gazes at me excitedly.

"Oh, that's so nice, and..."

But it doesn't last, as the bird has decided that it has remained silent long enough, and making up for lost time. It's looking at me now.

"Seven Hells, what is this? Go to hell, you fucking piece of shit! Fuck you, ser!"

She pales at hearing this and looks at me reproachfully, while I'm bursting in great gales of laughter, slapping my thighs. When I'm done, my eyes are wet from my merriment.

"Can't help it, Sansa. This bird is not the sort that likes to repeat your pretty words."

"Fuck you ser!"

This is the sentence that he seems to prefer, and he keeps at it until she covers his cage with the blanket, cutting him off efficiently. Her shoulders are shaking, and when she turns back to face me, I find that she's caught in a fit of laughter too.

"Sandor, you're really awful, do you know that?" And then she laughs again, coming closer to me. "And you're no ser!"

I look down at her, smiling from the corner of my mouth. "Doesn't matter. It was a small sacrifice to make. You laughed."

She comes closer and closer until I feel her body against mine. Her arms come up and she puts her hands on my shoulders, looking up at me with her ghost smile. Her blue eyes still have the haunted look, and will probably always keep some of it. _A bird can't go through life without losing some feathers._ I put my arms carefully around her, and one hand climbs and strokes my jaw and face; on the bad side. My feet sink a bit on the floor. I kiss the top of her head and she sighs.

"Sandor... I came back from the brink of death, I never thought that I would, but I did. Stop treating me like a broken doll."

My eyes narrow at this and I study her face more closely. What does she mean? She had always complained before that I was too rough, and now...

"Hold me tight please. I need it."

Her eyes get the pleading look, the familiar pleading look that I found when she would catch me - since we have come here – looking at her or more like it, _leering,_ when I thought her attention fixed somewhere else. Then dawning finally descends on me, and I think what a damned, ignorant fool that I've been. I know nothing. _She stopped being scared of me; now I have to start to believe that she's not repulsed by me._

I crush her against me, the Hound's smile forming on my lips.

"Like this, little bird?"

"Yes. I like it when you scare me."

She smiles and her arms encircle my neck. I bend down and take her mouth. Then the madness begins; the madness of life reborn, of luscious and fragrant skin once again under my hands, a feast of taste, a feverish entwining of limbs, of unbearable pleasures.

***On vacation for two weeks – more on my return!**


	18. Chapter 18

**CHAPTER XVIII**

**Sandor**

A couple of months later, I'm spending a bit of an evening at a water hole, drinking at a table in the back of the room, where I can view all of the activities and see who gets out and in. I'm alone this time, just in a cup or two of wine, resting and calming down after a fight. I'm mostly musing on the nice bath that I'll take home, all nice and sweet for little Sansa, and maybe for...

A man comes in, and all my instincts are awakening to a full alert. He's dressed in full armor and mail, just like a western knight but I sense right away that he's neither of them. He's tall and slender, with long red hair on one side and white on the other and pale, icy grey eyes. There's something coming off him that raises my hackles; even more so when I notice that he's coming straight in my direction, in a supple and relaxed manner, like a feline. Calm, stealth and lethal danger. This is a man that could well succeed in killing me.

He stops in front of me, gazing at me through heavy lidded eyes.

"May a man join you?", he asks in a low and soft voice.

I really don't feel like being in his company, but at the same time, intuition tells me to comply for the moment. I give an imperceptible nod, and he sits down gracefully, resting his tankard of ale on the table. He sighs and his gaze is direct, his heavy lids hardly blinking.

"A man is hard to find. A man had to travel long to reach another man. A Hound", he adds in a whisper, "Sandor Clegane."

"And you are?"

"This man has the honour of being called Jaqen H'agard, formerly of the Free City Lorath."

Why does he speak in this strange way? From up close, I can see that he's quite handsome, and with his cultured accent and courtesy, he's the kind of man that I wouldn't like Sansa to meet. In a way, that adds even more to my mistrust of him and growing anger.

"How did you find me then?"

"A man has ears everywhere he travels, connections."

My eyes narrow at hearing this. "So, you're a damned spy, aren't you? Your master must want me very badly to have spared all this trouble."

He smiles. "A hound is mistaken. This man has no master. But a hound is right, the man's mission is very important, for two reasons."

"Then get on with it and tell what the fuck you want."

He bursts laughing at this. "Ah, the direct approach. Very refreshing, but a hound has to let a man tell the tale at his own pace. A hound will understand."

"_A hound is getting tired now,"_ I reply sarcastically. And thirsty."

He inclines his head humbly. "Forgive this man for his lack of courtesy. Of course."

He purchases two tankards of ale and of wine. When we get them, he takes a big swallow of his ale and I do the same with my wine. We rest our tankards at the same time on the table.

"A hound has come to the attention of somebody important in our guild."

His farce hardens, and now I understand what my instincts had warned me of, how I have sized up this man.

I speak in a raspy whisper. "The faceless men."

He raises his eyes brows in appreciation. "Very good, Hound. The man was right about you. But a hound's size can be an impediment for this. Few men are as tall and as big as this hound."

"So? If a man can change his face at will, surely he can have the means to change his size as well."

"A hound is right about that. A man is pleased to have met him. But this is only the beginning. A hound will have to learn things, train for this. Also, if a hound does well and is accepted, he will have to travel sometimes, be far away for a period of time. But a man thinks that this work will fulfill his needs."

So, the opportunity that I was waiting for has come, although I'll be very careful about it, as this man still gives me an uneasy feeling. Taking things at face value is not something that I do. I drink again.

"And what is the second reason?"

"As important as the first. A man was caught unfortunately in Westeros last year and was in the black dungeons of the Red Keep, destined to go to the Wall. He was imprisoned with two others. Another faction attacked it, there was a fire and a man was saved by a girl. A man ended up working for this new faction, led by Tywin Lannister. A man became friend with the girl, and helped her escape from the Lannister army. The tale becomes familiar, yes?"

He must have noticed my skin getting raised by goose bumps, felt the intensity of my gaze. I'm sitting very still.

"The man and the girl separated then, as she wanted to find the rest of her family in Westeros, and the man had to cross the Narrow Sea to attend to his duties. But he had given her a precious coin and secret words. If she needed him again, she could find him in Braavos with the words and the coin. Unfortunately, the girl lost her family and decided to cross the Narrow Sea, ending up in the streets of Braavos and finding one of the guild's houses. The man was advised of this and met her again at this house. She told him her tale, and the man decided to help her."

"I'm curious at how you found me."

"A man was not looking for a hound, but for another. Both having disappeared from King's Landing, a man knew that he would find one through the other. A man heard rumors about a slaying in a baazar in Volantis, and the killer fitted your description perfectly. A man took a ship, and stopped along the way at the other ports, gathering information until he knew that a hound had disembarked here, with a young girl. Then here we are. It is said that this Hound guards jealously this girl, a true jewel from what a man has heard."

Every hair on my body start to bristle, and I growl. He smiles back wistfully.

"Have no fear on this account. The man has found his soulmate, and has to wait until the time is right when he can show his intentions."

"The girl!" I exclaim in a harsh whisper. "Where is she?"

"The girl is waiting outside, as per my suggestion. We can leave now and a hound can see by himself the truth of a man's words."

I look at him for a long moment and then we get up. A tale this outlandish can only be true, as no ordinary spy could have all this knowledge. I walk behind him as to keep my eye on him, and sensing this; he turns his head and gives me a knowing smile. When we get out, I look around prepared for anything. Then he calls out softly near the side wall.

"Lovely girl?"

And there she comes, the little she wolf in all her glory, dressed like a boy but in clean garments this time. Her big dark eyes get huge at the sight of me.

"You!"

"Come Arya, away from here. A man and a girl will follow a hound where he will take us."

We all get on our horses, Arya riding double with Jaqen. I can hear her voice, restive and persistent in asking questions. This is all incredible, and I wonder if I'm dreaming again. We ride the short way to my house by the sea, entering by the courtyard in the stables. We dismount and after having left the stables and walked in the courtyard, Arya comes to life.

"Where is my sister? What have you done to her? I'm sure that you had to force her to come with you. She was terrified by you."

She's coming up very close to me, her chin raised pugnaciously. Fuck, how I remember that fighter's stance and the rage.

"I don't scare her anymore, and she came with me of her free will. I've treated her well, contrary to what you may think."

"I don't believe you. What would my sister do with a man like you?"

Jaqen is shaking his head and turns her around to face him. She's still so short that her head doesn't even reach his shoulders. "A girl must not judge a man by his appearance only. Appearances are deceitful, as a girl knows."

"But he's a bad man!", she replies hotly. "He killed a boy, a friend of mine named Mycas!"

I sigh through my teeth. In the other life that I never experienced but which I had lived through the dream, she never stopped riling me with this, and I refuse to live through that again.

"You never got it, did you? I was Joffrey's sworn shield, and was ordered to kill this boy, as he had been accused of trying to kill the prince. I had to follow the orders, and took no pleasure from it, regardless of the way that I acted. So, enough of this! You've brought it up many times in the past. I'll not stand for this anymore."

She looks at me like I've lost my mind. "But I've never told you this! We've never spoken together before."

Jaqen is watching this with an intrigued expression and a slight smile.

"Never mind, that's my last word on this, I've said."

"Not for me. After that, I had you on my list of people to kill."

This makes me laugh mockingly. "Please, wait until you meet your sister again to do it. Wouldn't start things well between you."

She clenches her little fists and her eyes have narrowed. Jaqen come again near her and puts soothing hands on her shoulders, but his voice, though soft, has an unmistakable authority to it. "Arya, stop this. This is not what is important now. Your sister is, yes?"

The fight drains out of her, and she suddenly looks very small and vulnerable, like the child she still is. She looks up at Jaqen with a trembling chin.

"I'm afraid, Jaqen. I've done so many things that would horrify her, afraid that she will not want to be with me anymore, hate me."

Jaqen says nothing, releasing his hold on her and glances at me. Sighing again, I walk around and put my hand on her shoulder. She stiffens at the touch.

"Girl, your sister has changed too; she learned a lot of things after you were gone, suffered a lot at the Red Keep and is a woman now. She knows everything about what happened to your family, and got very sick after that from grief. I'm certain that she'll be overjoyed to know that she's not lost you too."

Poor Jaqen. I could almost pity him; he has his work cut out for him with her. But if he managed to travel with her for months and is still smiling, he can take anything. I don't think that much can disturb that cool temperament; the way that he smiles at her suggests that she represents for him a challenge that he delights in. _But I don't feel the same way._ _What I do for love..._ Having this girl here is going to be a trial, trying my patience to its limits, and I'll have her under my roof same as the bloody Merlin. Thankfully, there will be Sansa and Jaqen to keep her in line. She too is in need of some healing. Maybe I find her so irritating is because she reminds me of how I was at her age, so angry and hard and stubborn.

She hears my words but looks up at Jaqen again for confirmation. He nods at her. We then make our way across the courtyard and unlocking the door, I ask them to wait in the hall until I've scouted the house and found Sansa, awake or not.

She is sitting on the divan, and has stopped reading her book at hearing the door unlock and my heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. She smiles in that heartbreaking way that she has when she sees me, and I signal her to stay put. She frowns from puzzlement.

"Little bird, I have a big surprise for you; something unexpected, something good. Brace yourself."

I return to the top of the stairs and signal them to come up. Arya's face has gotten very white, and she goes up the stairs hesitantly, with Jaqen following at her pace behind her. When she reaches the top, she stops for a moment, breathing fast, and almost tiptoes in the common room. Sansa, who has been waiting tersely, finally spies her, and she gasps audibly, her eyes huge with astonishment. She gets up shakily toward her sister.

"Arya," she mouths almost soundelessly. "Arya!" Her voice has broken.

She walks toward Arya and with tears pouring down her face, opens up her arms. Arya has started to cry too and they manage to meet halfway, embracing each other hard, laughing and sobbing at the same time. I'm feeling a great heat inside of me, making my heart dilate and getting my eyes misty. I glance at Jaqen and I can see from his smile that he's very satisfied at this outcome. I put a hand on his shoulder.

"A pity that we'll get close. I would very much have wanted to challenge myself with you."

"It would be a dangerous thing. A man and a hound are very closely matched. But a man will take part in the training of a hound. A most interesting thing."

Then Merlin, who's has been disturbed by all the voices and the noise, comes to life.

"Fuck you, ser!"

We all laugh together.


	19. Chapter 19

**SECOND FORK**

**NARRATOR's SUMMARY**

**Chapter 19**

Here is the second part of the tale. At the end of the first part, Sandor Clegane has discovered through dreams the reality of alternate universes/parallel lives. It's also linked with the prophecy that the fortune teller told him; that he would need to follow the new fork opening on his path, or else lose everything and die young.

He saw the new fork and took it.

Now in the second part of the tale, in still another AU, Sandor Clegane has missed the first fork for unexplainable reasons; maybe because the timing of certain crucial happenings is different in his world. For the first part of the tale, I have used the Hound's appearance from the TV series, older and bearded. In the second part, he is younger, twenty-eight years old like in first alternate (original book) and clean shaven, as he's even more badly burned and beard cannot grow on the left side of his face. Sansa Stark is sixteen, more womanly and has already lost all of her family. Joffrey Baratheon, on the eve of his sixteenth's nameday, will take over from queen Cersei's regent rule – but that's another story.

Still the Hound is lucky. The Gods, in whose existence he doesn't believe, or the Fates if you will, have opened a second new fork on his path. It happens on the night of the Blackwater Battle.

**SUMMER ISLES**

It's an isolated archipelago south of Westeros, comprised of three main Islands: Walano, Omboru and Jhala, with smaller islands with poetic names of Isle of Bird, Isle of Love...

The people there have a different culture from the rest of the known world and don't interfere in the politics of others. They have a fleet of merchant ships, the swiftest vessels in the world and trade with Westeros and Essos.

King Robert Baratheon had once thought of sending warships there to conquer them and seize their natural riches, but the idea was abandoned as it was deemed too expensive and risky because of the remoteness of the islands.

These islands have the same sub tropical climate as the Polynesian Archipelago. There are no native animals there except for some monkeys, birds and parrots. They eat fish, vegetables and fruits.

There were few mentions of the Islands in the five original books; I researched for all of them and managed to piece them together and added ideas of my own to create a credible whole. I found the bits of their culture to be similar to the ancient Polynesian, so I added my knowledge of it. I searched for more ancient tropical dwellings and created a mongrel of them.


	20. Chapter 20

**The Second Fork**

**CHAPTER 20**

**Sansa**

The Blackwater Battle had been won, as Dontos had told me on the following morning. Lord Tywin Lannister had the right wing, Randyll Tarly commanding the center and Mace Tyrell the left; but it was the vanguard led by Lord Renly which had won the fight. The bells were tolling joyfully in the air. The sky had returned to its normal blue hue, and the sun was shining.

I had been huddling all night long on the floor, wrapped in the Hound's white cloak, all bloody and smoky from the battle. He had wrenched it away and left it on the floor. After he had left, I thought I had heard some tumult in the hall; footsteps running, sounds of blades clashing mixed with grunts and shouts. I hadn't dared to move at all, and then it was silent, until the bells started to ring.

Now life seems to have returned to peace, with Stannis having lost the battle and retreated to recoup. Queen Cersey had the engagement between Joffrey and I broken and another betrothal made between Joffrey and Margery Tyrell; figuring that this alliance would be more profitable now for them. I had met Margery and she had invited me several times to have tea and cakes with her aunt and cousins, and I had enjoyed these events. Surprisingly, she had been very friendly with me, and it had given me the courage to apprise her of how Joffrey could be cruel. She hadn't been worried about this, as her brother ser Loras Tyrell was part of the Kingsguard now and she would have him watch over her day and night. There was even talk that I could be betrothed to her older brother Willas. I had heard that he was a scholar, gentle and kind, and it had raised hopes again for me, that I could be finally safe far away in Highgarden, with a kind husband.

_I missed the Hound's presence though. Sandor Clegane had come in the night of Blackwater's battle to take me away from the city, but I had refused. Sometimes I lay awake at night wondering if it had been wise. _But how could I have done otherwise? He'd terrified me in the state he had been – and I had thought myself safer in my stone tower from the battle, the fires, the smoke and spreading death. And I thought that I had a better way of escaping than this one...

I have not seen him since then. He must have left as he had said he would, but nobody has spoken of his disappearance or even of his death. Why? It seems to me the vanishing of the king's sworn shield and a member of the kingsguard would be enough to generate a lot of talk and speculation, even a search. But I have heard nothing, either at court, from Dontos and others. They all act as if nothing unusual had happened.

On that night, I'm ascending the Serpentine to go to the godswood for a meeting with Dontos. _Hopefully my better way of escaping..._ He has assured me time and time again that he's working on the escape; that a ship will stand at the ready on the night of Joffrey's wedding, but I've been having serious doubts about it ever happening. I have to admit that as much as I had wanted him to be my Florian, _he is not._ He is weak and drunk most of the time, trying to grope me and give me one of his slobbery kisses, and I find it harder to keep up the pretense of the knight and his damsel.

I'm going up the stairs slowly and lightly as I can as to make no noise, when suddenly, two hard hands grasp my arms from behind, immobilising me on the stair. _I know very well the feel of these hands..._ I try to struggle but their grasp is like iron, and then I hear a familiar raspy voice.

"Where do you think you're going, little bird? Shouldn't you be in your chambers this late at night?"

He turns me around effortlessly to face him, and releases my arms from his hold. He's standing on the stair just below mine, and we're almost of a height. I'm trembling from head to toes from the shock, my heart pounding fast in my chest like a hammer. I feel that my eyes have gotten huge and round, unblinking as they stare at him in astonishment. _It is him,_ same as always with his terribly scarred face and a smirk on his hard lips. _No phantom..._ It is too much, being this close to him and the surprise. I stifle a scream with my hand and run up the stairs as fast as I can, wanting to escape in the godswood. But even before I can reach the gate, he's standing in front of it, blocking the access, and I retreat from him until I'm foolishly backed up against the wall, breathing rapidly.

He walks toward me with his slow, confident footsteps until he's close to me again.

"And I had thought that you would be glad to see me, thinking that maybe you had missed your dog!"

He's laughing bitterly and his eyes have grown angry.

"But..."I'm sputtering in my shock, my voice thin. "I thought that you had left! What are you doing here?"

"I had meant to get away, as you know, but I was badly wounded and was found unconscious. Took me that long to recuperate. Want to see?"

Before I can answer, he lifts off both his mail and tunic from his right side, showing his flat and muscled middle to my sight. He turns around so I can see better, and I spy a vicious looking scar slightly above his waist. It is as long as my middle finger and puckered, with the jagged line of it still pink. The sight of it is terrible, and I feel a constriction in my chest and start to cry.

He lets the tunic and mail fall back, snorting in contempt at my reaction.

"Not pretty enough for you? Still another scar to frighten you."

"No, it's not what you think." I'm trying to regain my composure back, wiping my tears and sniffling a bit. "It made me sad that you got hurt like this."

He raises his eyebrows sceptically.

"Really? I'm in no mood for your pretty lies."

I try to ignore his scowl. "Does it hurt?"

He sighs exasperatedly, and I feel like an idiot again. "Of course it hurts, you little fool. But it's not as bad as it looks. It was a shallow cut, but it got infected; no wonder, from whose blade it came from."

"But you were not wounded like this when ... you came in my chambers." Just mentioning this makes me tremble again, and I have to avert my gaze as I still feel raw and vulnerable from the memory, and I'm too afraid to see a smirk or a knowing gaze as he hears me. But surprisingly, his voice has turned softer, and when I have the courage to look up at him again, I spy something like - regret, sadness? - In his eyes.

"No, it happened after I left your chamber."

Then it takes shape in my mind.

"The noise that I heard... the scuffle? It was you, with others?"

He smiles mirthlessly. "The little bird heard it then. Others saw me leaving your room, Meryn and Boros to be exact. They thought that I had had my fun with you, and wanted to have their turn too. I disagreed, so there was a _scuffle,_ as you said. Usually, I would have sent them off easily, but being exhausted and very drunk, I was quite slow. I had already taken care of Boros. Meryn managed to cut me before I cut off his head. Then nothing, until I woke in a bed with the healer standing over me."

This starts my heart hammering again, and I feel myself sway on my feet until the Hound steadies me with his hands on my shoulders. I put my arms protectively around me and start pacing.

"I... can't believe this! The knights were fighting in the battle, not preying on us! This is impossible!"

He stops me by grabbing my arms again, flattening me against the wall. He has lowered his head near mine, his face a mask of fury. I can see his mouth twitch repeatedly.

"You little innocent, still believing in these fucking songs, these knights! What do you think happens in a battle, especially in one that's turning into defeat? The men get blood lust and crazy, not caring about anything anymore except survival. Some had already started to pilfer the Keep, while others were roaming around, trying to find women to fuck them bloody. But they don't tell of this in your beloved songs."

"Stop this! You're hurting me, Hound!"

For once, this seems to reach him, and he removes his hands, while still staying close to me. I still don't want to accept what he has said, and I reply hotly:"But it was told that ser Meryn and ser Boros had died bravely in battle! So what you said is untrue."

"Oh, you believe that? Leaders don't want that kind of thing to be known, so they covered it with a nice lie. _That's how the songs are made._ But Queen Cersei, she knows about these things. Why do you think she gathered all women together? Not only from the enemy, but from her own men."

As much as I don't want to believe him, the Hound has never lied to me, and I feel a great hurt again in my chest and feel tears slide silently on my face, much to my shame. The destruction of my world and what I believed in never stops, and I wonder desperately if I can bear any more of it.

The Hound brings out a rough handkerchief from one of his pockets and dabs delicately at my face while I try to stop my sniffling. Why is he always there when I hurt the most?

"Get it into your head that the world is not like you had imagined it to be and you'll suffer less from it."

Hid gentle touch has calmed my sorrow, and while his words are gruff, I have felt an undertone of caring behind them. _Maybe he's not so bad after all._ I take a deep breath and look up at him.

"I thank you, my lord, for saving me from them, and I am sorry about the wound that you got for it."

"Too late for that!" he growls, and I jump again. "You should have said it before, instead of not believing me. I don't need your false gratitude."

"But..."

I don't have time to say more as he advances on me. He's so close now that my gaze is resting on his armor, shutting my view of everything else around me. He has pinned me against the wall, and to my consternation, his face has gotten very close to mine, and this troubles me so that I turn my head sharply to the side.

"Still unable to look at me in the face, can you?" he whispers harshly.

"No! I'm scared! What you're doing is not proper."

He gives a great bark of laughter, and I feel his hot breath on my face. "Not proper! What did you expect from me then? _Look at me now._"

As much as I don't want to, I do as I'm bid, and find his angry gaze again transfixed on me.

"If you treated me nicer, _sweeter,_ maybe you would not find me so scary then."

He sighs like he's very tired suddenly, grimacing. He retreats from me, and it gives me a chance to breathe normally again. His expression has become closed off and withdrawn.

"Come now, I'll escort you to your chamber. You never know when another rat will decide to come out of its hole."

We go down the stairs and I enter through a doorway that he opens for me, following behind and soon striding beside me. He seems to be brooding and I say nothing either, being too drained to think of something to fill the silence. All of what happened seems so unreal, after I had been sure that I would never see him again. I almost feel like I am in a trance, until the familiar sight of my chamber's door snaps me back to reality again. Before I have the chance of opening it, his hand grabs the door knob, keeping it shut, and I feel his insistent gaze on me, although I refuse to meet it.

"Regardless of how crazed I was on the night of the battle, I spared you. Remember that."

And with that, he's gone, his heavy footsteps receding further in the hall. I hurriedly open my door and latch it as soon as possible behind me. As I undress and put on my nightdress, I find that I'm shaking again, although a lot of it is cause by anger, not only fear. I'm surprised by this, as this is an unusual feeling for me, and I go lay down on my bed, pulling the covers protectively around me, feeling my jaw hardening from my inner tensions.

I can't believe what he just said... He thought that he had spared me! It wasn't important to him that he had scared me to death, no... If he thought that I would be grateful that he hadn't raped and killed me, then he would have to wait for centuries! It really showed what a brute he was.

I feel really foolish now that I had felt that I had missed his presence, lying in this very bed, the bed that he had been in! I must have become unhinged to have had these feelings. I must really be stupid like the queen and Joffrey keep telling me. What had I missed about him? It was true that he had often been helpful to me and had saved me from harm, but most of the time, when I would encounter him alone, he would be awful to me, being so angry and hurtful. That wasn't worth it. Tonight has been another example of this.

Not accepting my thanks once again... But then a sense of unease, of shame rises up in me. He was right... I hadn't felt grateful at all, just being angry at these horrible tales he was telling me, and when I couldn't deny him the truth of it anymore, I had thrown my insincere thanks at him, because I had felt guilty that he's been wounded in trying to save me from the knights. But I had felt resentful of what he had told me, as I had often felt before, because I thought that he and what his words expressed were awful.

But as I reflect on it, I have to admit while is words are hard, they only reflect the truth of our world, of what is behind contrived smiles, false piety, even known history. Were the songs created to hide all of this or to ask for a higher standard that most are unable to reach? Did he persist in saying all of this to me so I would see the world through clearer eyes, better able to defend myself and survive in it? The events and his words have indeed evaporated the mists of my childhood dreams and illusions, but what have I left now to look forward to? It's so hard...

And I feel more confused than ever at the turn which my thoughts have taken me. I have always been eager to please, for people to think of me as a good person, and I've strived so much to be a real lady, following the rules slavishly, thinking that it would make me safe. That paved the way so easily for me to pretend and lie as a way to survive, to be kept in their good graces. I feel like I've been lost for a long time in a dream, and that in waking up, I don't know myself anymore.


	21. Chapter 21

**CHAPTER 21**

**Sansa**

This has been the beginning of a more peaceful period of time for me. The Queen acts as if I don't exist and the King, being occupied with his new betrothed, hardly gives me attention now. Because of this, I don't get beaten anymore, and I feel relieved too that these two knights who were the ones to beat me are dead... I feel a secret pleasure at knowing what really happened to them, and that nobody at court suspects that I know. I don't feel as stupid or as naive as I'd felt before. I'm left pretty much alone, except for the occasional invitations which Margery extends to me, and it feels nice to be in the company of women, except for the terrible Queen of Thorns. But even she behaves differently toward me now; she often looks at me with a speculative gleam in her eyes and doesn't batter me with questions anymore.

I haven't encountered the Hound in the halls or the godswood. I only have seen him at the court functions or following Joffrey, and when I do see him, his face looks impassive and he hardly glances at me; when he does, his gaze is neutral and doesn't linger long. He has resumed his sworn shield duties, and I often wondered if he was well enough to start them. But then peace has returned to our realm; supplies and food have started to be carried by ships on the waterways, so the city has enough to eat again, calming the citizens. Everybody feels triumphant and relieved that the battle has been won; making new plans, new alliances, rebuilding, so in that quiet lull, there not much need for the Hound to have to defend his liege from danger.

Except for this encounter with him on the Serpentine, he seems to have changed since the battle, being more subdued. Every time that I catch myself worrying about him, I chide myself for what a fool I am to care about his state, but then this is my nature. Before the Blackwater battle, I remember that I had even prayed for him, for his soul to be gentled. What a fool I am!

On one afternoon, a bannerman is complaining about his daughter been attacked by his neighbor's men, and the King listens with a bored expression on his face. Lord Tywin has been away for two days, so there has been no Hand to take care of this for him, and he has a hard time trying to conceal his intolerance, his indifference for matters pertaining to people whose concerns are so below his interests. _Like insects to him._

I see the Hound standing at the front of the dais as usual, and our gazes cross for a moment, his seeming like he doesn't really see me. I turn my head; but an instinct keeps my gaze fixed on him from the corner of my eye and I spy him looking at me with the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Then I realise that he has been hiding his glances from me since the encounter, and for a reason I cannot explain it fills me with merriness. Not being used to this mood, I can't help letting out giggles behind my hand, and the court turns completely silent at these sounds. I look up to see all eyes fixed on me in cold disapproval; most of all the eyes of the King. He lets the silence go on as long as it takes to make me afraid, _and I am._ What was I thinking of? Then he starts to speak in the soft tone of voice that always precedes a punishment.

"I would really like to know what you find so amusing about the fate of this poor young girl, _Lady Stark."_

_You hypocrite, you didn't even care a second ago._ Somehow, this thought gives me courage.

"I don't know why I laughed", I reply in a little girl's voice. "Your grace, you know how stupid I am, and I feel that I'm getting even more stupid every day, your Highness.'

This is not what Joffrey had expected, and I see first a look of astonishment spreading on his face, followed by a puzzled frown. Then he regains his composure.

"Then it would help the court if you remained silent, as to spare us more of your stupidity."

"Please your grace, I meant no harm. If your grace would have it in him to forgive me, I would gladly submit to punishment."

The Hound's mouth has started to twitch at the King's words, and now he's erupting in growls, scowling at me.

"Stop this, girl!"

Joffreys crows triumphantly at this, a grin spreading on his lips, and then his face turns icy cold.

"Be warned of this, Lady Stark. Next time when you don't behave in a respectful manner, I'll have my dog beat you and the other beatings will seem like caresses after he's through with you."

Regardless of the Hound's threatening stare boring into me, I know that he was warning me to stop riling the King, acting on my behalf, and I find it easy to ease back in my old frightened state.

"Oh no, please your grace! Not the Hound I beg of you!"

The Hound gives a short bark of laughter, and a lot of people chuckle in the court at my pleadings. This makes me realise even more how alone and defenceless I am here, and while it makes me feel desolate, I know that the Hound is doing his mummer's farce. This gives me more strength, and I try to hide my pain and smoldering anger from everybody until the court has adjourned.

Then the peace has evaporated again and I feel uneasy. I regularly feel now this anger and have to be careful not to be foolhardy and put myself in danger. I remain silent, and start to feel disquieted when Margery doesn't call me her sister anymore, cools toward me and stop inviting me to join her and her cousins in their circle. I'm afraid that it means that the proposal between me and Willas has been called off.

Then several days pass without Dontos meeting me in the godswood. That had never happened before, and I start to grow more apprehensive; that the offer of escape has been abandoned too. What will happen to me? My mother is still keeping Jaime as a hostage and no talks about an exchange have even been mentioned, so I feel even more desperate at what will be my fate. I know that it won't continue on like this for long. I'm a pawn that has to be used again.

It doesn't stop me from going to the godwoods each night at dusk. On the fifth night without having seen Dontos, I kneel down before a tree, thinking that this time the old gods will hear me, as I put my body, my mind and my soul into the words, becoming a prayer, like an intense shout that is sent through its maw and into the heavens. _Please, please hear me! I'm desperate, nobody could be this helpless, I can't take it anymore, help me, GRANT MY WISH!_

I feel that a tremendous energy has left me, and the release of it calms me down. I suddenly hear footsteps in the quiet and get up hurriedly from my knees, a surge of hope rising in me. But when I turn around to see who has entered the godswood, I spy Sandor Clegane, swaggering with a mocking look on his face as he approaches me.

"Not the one you were waiting for, is it?"

His unexpected appearance flusters me, and I reply coldly. "I was not waiting for anybody, Hound. I was trying to pray, and now you've broken my peace! I'm going to leave now. Go away."

"In seven hells I will. Come sit here. Now."

This is the last thing that I want to do, and while I try to escape him, he grabs my wrist and tugs at my arm, forcing me to follow him to the bench. I'm getting really nervous now, as I fear that Dontos could appear any moment and all will be lost because the Hound persists in staying here. I sit beside him, on the good side of his face but as far away from him as possible so he won't feel my trembling, and look down at the ground.

"So, who is it that you're meeting there regularly? Look at me."

I meet his gaze while I try to look as expressionless as possible, clasping my hands together.

"Hound," I say in a tone of voice as firm as possible, "if you continue to follow me, I'll tell the Queen."

He snorts in derision. "Tell her then. I don't fucking care. But you won't like it when I'll tell her that you meet someone here regularly, _a man._"

My heart sinks in consternation. Don't I have anything to defend myself with? But I have to keep my resolve. "Nobody, I told you, I come here to pray."

Now his eyes have turned dark with anger and made his mouth surly, revealing his teeth.

"Don't lie to me", he hisses.

I raise my chin defiantly. "I'll do whatever and say whatever I please! I don't owe you anything!" _Now, what has gotten into me? He'll kill me!_

Contrary to my expectations, his face clears and he chuckles in appreciation.

"The little bird is growing claws. Be careful though. You've put yourself in danger at court on the other day. I heard the mockery behind your words. Now, you've put me in a difficult situation, as next time Joff wants to punish you, I'll be the one who'll have to do it." His face has turned somber from the thought of it.

"I didn't put you in any situation," I say sullenly. "It's you who spoke."

He growls. "I didn't have time to think of something better to say. I'll find a good reason not to do it if he asks me to strike you. Don't fret."

There I have it finally, a real confirmation that he had been trying to help me for all these years. Surprisingly, it melts my resentment and fear of him. It has touched me deeply and I feel tears coming to my eyes from the warmth of it; that he really has cared, like I had sometimes thought that he did.

"Thank you very much. I appreciated it, and knew that you were not laughing at me like the others."

He smiles at me, and I feel for the first time that it is a genuine one. It's a rare moment of ease, of tentative trust between us. Then I'm reminded of the precarious situation that I'm in and look around nervously. Naturally, this doesn't escape his attention, and his face turns dark again.

"Don't think that you'll distract me with your pretty courtesies. I have not forgotten why I came here, and I'll spare you the questions, as I know the answers already." He looks at me intently, and I try not to flinch from his gaze. The one who you meet; a certain fool called Dontos, isn't it?"

I blurt out without thinking: "Not anymore. I've not seen him for a while."

I regret my words as soon as they're out and the Hound smiles knowingly.

"Not really good at intrigue, are you? Doesn't matter anyway. I've known for quite a while now, and I think that even the queen knows, because of Varys the spider and his little birds."

I put a hand on my mouth to stifle my gasp of fear. "Oh no! What do you think she will do?"

"She won't do anything, as he won't ever come again here to meet you. He's dead."

This time I cannot suppress a gasp, and a sense of unreality with renewed despair seizes me badly. I wring my hands.

"What happened? Has the queen had him killed? Did you kill him?"

He shakes his head. "Nothing like this. I visited him earlier in the afternoon in his quarters, to question him. On my initiative, not the queen's," he adds hastily. "Then he died."

My eyes narrow and a sense of foreboding chills me. "Don't tell me that you tortured him until he died?"

"That's not my way, and I didn't need to do it. He died of fright from my questions and knowing that he was lost. He was weak, old, rotted by the drink and a fat body."

"It's still your fault! If you hadn't come in his room and threatened him, he would still live, rescue me and help me escape! The poor man, who wanted to help me! What have you done, you beast, you'll go to hell for this!"

"I've already been there, remember?" He's sliding closer to me and grabs my shoulders roughly. I react by clenching a fist and hitting one of his hands repeatedly. This makes him laugh for a moment, and when he removes his hands, his lips pulled back from his teeth like the dog he is.

"You don't know anything, you little ignorant fool! He spilled everything to me, and it's not what you think, your beloved Florian bringing you to a nice ship and you sailing away to a place where you'll be safe. He was promised ten thousand gold dragons to deliver you to someone who has had plans for you for a long time. And guess who? Littlefinger, who betrayed your father!"

I'm rendered speechless by this. While I want to struggle against this new knowledge, to drive it out of my mind, I know deep inside of me that this is true. It was another of these illusions that I still harbored which had hypnotised me into thinking again that a song could come true. Again, I cannot blame this man for rooting out the truth and flinging into my face, but I'm still furious at him for telling me this, for having interfered in my plans, ill advised or not. How he must take pleasure of my being prisoner there forever.

I thought that I would cry at the death of one of my last hopes, but I feel too devastated and instead a great cold has enveloped me. I feel anger, I feel hate. I turn around to face him on the bench and find out once again that as having not reacted in my expected ways, it unbalances my foes. _Yes, he is a foe._ He's watching me closely, with a puzzled expression on his face that makes him look almost vulnerable. I remember from the other night that he had told that I should have treated him better, and I think that I'll be nice and then after that really hurt him, hurt him as bad as I'm hurting now; make him bleed in a different way that he's used to.

It's very hard to do, as I still fear him and at the same time would prefer to strike him instead of what I do next. I lift my hand to his face, and very slowly and gently, I stroke the good side of his face and his long black hair, smiling sweetly at him. Then I see something that I've never seen in his face before, _a softening_ that changes it completely, and he leans his cheek into my hand, for a moment; a long, long moment until he gets a suspicious gleam in his eyes and his face hardens in a black fury. His hands seize my wrists in such a hard grasp that I cry out.

"What do you think you're doing?" He's speaking through clenched teeth. "Don't play with me, little girl."

And still the defiance is in me. 'What will you do then? Beat me, kill me? Do it, I don't care. I have no reasons for living anymore."

Everything happens so fast that I have no time to react. From sitting I find myself suddenly sprawled on the ground on my back, with him lying down on top of me, his big body and heavy weight making me unable to struggle against him. I'm suffocating. His arms and legs block any movement from my limbs, and his face hovers above mine, looking older and bleak.

"Oh really?" he asks through a raspy whisper. "We'll see about that."

His face his leaning down toward mine, getting closer, and I'm filled with a fresh terror, like the one I had felt in my chamber on the night of the battle while he was crouching down on me with his teeth barred, bathed in that strange green light; except that this time he's smelling sweeter, with only a hint of sweat and wine coming off from him. I move my head back and forth to avoid contact with his face, to escape those eyes, while I whimper and plead.

"Please, Hound, stop this! I'm scared, mercy!"

He sighs through his nose. "I see that the little bird still has a will to live. That's good."

His face is still getting closer to mine, and I cannot do anything to stop it; but he surprises me with what he does. His mouth finds my forehead and cheeks, and he kisses them repeatedly in a strangely delicate and tender way. This shifts the hate for a moment, stirring something in my chest. Then supporting himself on his elbows and knees, he heaves himself off me and gets up. I sit up. Bending down, he hauls me to my feet by grasping me under my armpits.

I sway a bit for a moment and start to dust my dress furiously, to calm all the feelings that are warring in me and which are making me feel overwhelmed with their force. He doesn't do anything, uncaring of the dust and dirt on him. He's smirking again.

"Are you starting to regret not having left with me when I asked you? Would have saved you a lot of pain."

"Never! I never will. And you didn't leave. You're still there."

"Not for long, pretty thing. I'm just biding my time. And next time, when I leave, I won't ask you; you'll leave with me, whether you want it or not. That's a promise."

This time, when I make a move to escape, he doesn't move and lets me go, laughing.


	22. Chapter 22

**CHAPTER 22**

**Sansa**

On that night, sleep is a long time coming. Such turmoil is churning inside of me like a poisoned soup that has boiled over.

The hate and anger that I had felt are gone, thankfully. I would have never have expected to harbor these kind of feelings inside me; so strong and overbearing. I feel ashamed about them. What possessed me to provoke the Hound in this way? I was lucky to have escaped with nothing having happened except been scared by him. Had I not learned anything about how dangerous and unpredictable he could be? But he has some notions of honour, I have to give him that; he released when I begged him for mercy.

The only hope that I have left is the wedding to Willas Tyrell; I'll be in Highgarden, living a quiet and safe life with this kind man... Although I would have much preferred to be wed to his brother, ser Loras. He was so beautiful and everything that I had dreamed of in a knight, although that dream had been broken too. When I had seen him again, he hadn't remembered giving me that red rose before his joust on the Hand's tourney. He had been both courteous and indifferent, not having even remembered _me,_ while that gesture had meant so much to me. Then Joffrey had told me that he preferred swords to flowers, and I had turned red from the shock and humiliation.

The queen has promised me a new dress, to be delivered in two days, and it sparks my hopes again that I'll be wed to Willas.

On the next morning, I wake up tired from a short night of bad sleep, and the world seems quite bleak. I'm afraid that my prayers will still be unanswered by the Gods who seem to be indifferent to my fate, and I wonder if the Hound was right, when he had said that they didn't exist.

In the afternoon, I sense that my maid, Shae, is distraught, something unusual for this beautiful, cool headed girl. I've had her as my maid for months now; before, when the queen didn't trust me, I had a different maid every second day so I wouldn't be able to make an alliance with one of them. Now that she views me as tamed, she has stopped doing this.

We are in my chamber, and I stop her from putting away some dresses in my chest by putting a hand on her shoulder. She startles and looks at me. Something must be seriously wrong. I invite her to sit on the bed next to me and that bewilders her more.

"Shae, I've never seen you like this. What is wrong?"

"My lady, you really want to know?" Her face has become closed.

She gets up and closes the door, locking it, and this is starting to make me nervous. She comes back and stands up in front of me, her mouth suddenly hard.

"I have a question for you first, my Lady. Do you really want to escape this place?"

It is my turn to startle. I had not expected that, and I feel my heart beating hard and my eyes getting huge. Is this some kind of trap? I don't answer, and she gazes at me with a speculative gleam in her eyes, then smiles warmly.

"Do not be afraid, my lady. What will be said now won't go beyond this door. That's why I locked it."

"You're giving your word?" I ask fearfully.

"Yes, my lady."

"Why are you asking me this? I want to know."

She blows out a long breath and is looking at me now with contracted features.

"It has been said that there's another wedding being planned. For you. With Tyrion Lannister."

"What!" I exclaim loudly, then catching myself, I lower my tone. "That's madness, it cannot be. Where have you heard this?"

"From Tyrion himself. They think that it will give them the key to the North with Tyrion having the claim to Winterfell through your marriage to him."

Now I am the one who's distraught with incredulity and an awful sense of doom while I look at her with new mistrust in my eyes.

"How can you know about all of this, when you're just a maid?"

Her smiles turn crafty. "Because I'm Tyrion mistress. I was given to him on the battlefield, and he has brought me here to keep me closer to him and safe, under the guise of a servant girl so his father won't know about it. He had forbidden him to bring me here."

"So that's why you mentioned my escape. You don't want to become less important to him, to be brushed aside, if he marries me."

I see her in a different way now. She's a whore... The mask of the nice, helpful maid has dropped, and it seems that her kindnesses of the past must have been lies too. A whore spends her life pretending and lying, so it must have been easy for her. Her features have transformed to something harder, more calculated, and I'm spying a new viper now. I'm sure that she never shows that face to Tyrion; what she really is. I feel angry again while I try to conceal it behind the mask of the composed lady.

"So you would help me escape so I couldn't marry him."

"Yes, my lady."

"Why would I believe that you'll help me? You could easily send me into a trap where I could be killed, thus resolving your problems by my death."

"That would be too risky," she replies coolly. "You are an important hostage and they would investigate this thoroughly. It could come back to haunt Tyrion and make his position precarious."

"Oh. And when is that supposed wedding to happen?"

"On the morrow, my lady; when you're presented with your new dress. After you have bathed and dressed, you will be brought to the Septon, where it will occur."

"Then why wasn't I told of this? Why hide it from me? It's preposterous."

"Because they don't want to give you time to think and protest. It was planned with speed and in secrecy, so you wouldn't know and they could lay their claim as fast as possible."

_But Tyrion knew... And he had never mentioned anything to me..._ That's how important I'm to be to him, just a pawn in their games, and another woman to bed. And while he had been sometime kind to me it hadn't meant anything either; just the courtesies that were bred into him by his rank. And I certainly don't want to marry him! Just the thought of his small and shirt misshapen body climbing up on me at night, his stunted hands pawing me makes my skin crawl.

Something breaks in me then; a dam is falling from the powerful, heavy rush of feelings that are engulfing me now, drowning even my everlasting fear in their wake. No more of this bobbing in a sea at the mercy of any wave that comes my way; my fate is changing all the time at the whim of these hateful people.

Shae has watched me while I have been reflecting and she probably seen the feelings on my face. She's smiling triumphantly at this, and while I don't really trust her anymore, I know that what she has told me is the truth; why else would she want me to be gone?

"When?" I ask her.

"Now."

Two hours later, I'm emerging from the grate, having being led blindfolded through the dungeons so I would not know of the secret way and the identity of the person who has guided me silently. So wise and calculated of them: they really know how to protect themselves, unlike me, who hasn't a shred of cunning. Shae has probably given her favors to this man too.

The horse is there as promised, saddlebags bulging. How have they managed to bring it out here without arousing suspicions? I feel like such a blind, ignorant fool. Shae has packed them, and I find some of my dresses, smallclothes, and a lot of food for the road, a bedroll and a blanket; even a pouch of golden dragons. Where has she gotten them? Probably from her Lord Tyrion who must have given her a pile already for her services.

Well, these are not my concerns anymore. I'm free, for the first time in years. FREE! I get on the mare and enter through the woods.

The way is harder than I thought, with all the roots of the old trees making my mare side step them carefully, and I'm not an expert rider.

I listen to the chirping and songs of the birds and they seem to be more beautiful than those of the Keep, because they're not enclosed in walls. The breeze has nothing to stop it; it can travel for leagues until it's stopped, and I love its cleansing effect on my face. I wonder if I'll ever be rid of this feeling of being somehow _soiled._

Although I know that what I'm doing is a folly, I don't care about the dangers, my inexperience; I'll learn, I'll adapt, I'll survive. Even if I die because of it, this will be my experience, my own destiny.

As the trees get thinner and younger near the end of the Kingswood, I decide to take the Kingsroad, even if it is risky, as I'll be able to make better time and put as much distance as possible from King's Landing. My disappearance won't be noticed until tomorrow morning, with Shae having promised to cover for my absence for the evening and the night; so I think that the risk is minimal.

As I urge my mare to go faster, I'm scared at first, but as I start to enjoy the speed and gain confidence, I feel so exhilarated by it that I let out a whoop of pure joy; then laugh wildly. I feel like the wind, like nobody will ever catch me again!

**Sandor**

I had never been so idle in my life before. In the long weeks that it took me to heal, I had all the time in the world to think. While my body was sick and I had fever at first, my head worked _quite well._ In the moments I was awake, in my dreams; it kept on dredging up emotions and memories from the bottom of the vat in my mind. And I was too weak to get up and try to occupy my time with something else.

The memory that had preyed first on my mind was of the Blackwater Battle...There I had been faced once again with the only thing which I dreaded: fire. And bursting in all colours; plumes of gold and red, clouds of green from that wicked wildfire which nothing could put out. Seeing the men burn endlessly, the battle that we were losing, all bathed by that malevolent green light. But I was the one that had lost it all that night.

I had told off Joffrey and the Imp, refusing to obey orders and not caring anymore what they thought... I would have no more of this war, of this place. I had packed things hurriedly on my horse, while getting drunker, throwing up and then drinking again... I had ascended the stairs to her room in a trance, and nothing had gone as I had wanted. _I had told her that I could keep her safe, but_ _of course she hadn't wanted to leave with me and was still repulsed by the sight of my face._ _The growing anger of the past years had made me lose my head; filled me with the blackest fury. I had pushed her down on the bed and put my dagger at her throat; but I had left without taking her as I had meant to because she had moved me to tears with her little song about mercy and her hand on my cheek... _There in the hall, I had found these fucking vultures that were hungry for a taste of the spoils of battle before they were captured and killed by the enemy. A savage joy had brought me back to life when I had recognised the two knights whom I hated the most; I would kill all of those who would try to hurt her, like I had offered her in her room. The battle had been over for them.

But deep inside of me, I had known that the slide had begun before that, on that trip north to Winterfell. When I had first viewed Lady Stark, I had found her to be pretty, a tall woman with red hair and of haughty bearing, but that appreciation had been nothing compared to what I had felt when I saw her eldest daughter. My first view of her had dazzled me, as I couldn't believe that a girl so beautiful and exquisite was real, that she hadn't come out of a fever dream... She was strolling in the courtyard with her wolf, and I hadn't been able to resist coming on behind her and putting my hands on her shoulders. She had turned around, trembling and startled, and had flinched at the sight of me. I had laughed, but inside I had felt bitter and angry.

When I had known that Lord Eddard Stark would bring his two daughters with him on the journey down south, I had felt a mighty surge of excitement. While I knew that I could never have a girl like her, that she was out of my reach forever because of rank, alliances and my horrible burns, I was glad that she wouldn't be lost to me in these northern reaches, but to be part of the life at King's Landing. All through the journey, I had watched her avidly and she had done everything to avert her gaze from me.

While I had been lured by her innocence and purity, I couldn't help but be irritated by her awe of the highborns, so eager to please that glittering company and to fit in with them. Even though she had started to find out the true nature of Joffrey, my liege, that under his pretty appearance he was rotten through, she had clung to her vision of the charming prince and tried to keep the songs alive, the dreams that she had thought were coming true for her.

But the romantic songs had ended fast, replaced by darker ones that she had no knowledge of and of which nobody sung of. Her father meddling in things that had already killed the previous Hand, still persisted foolishly in bringing the truth out, being a man of honour, and he had paid the price by losing his head. The real nature of the new King had blossomed more and more as his betrothed lost everything and got under his complete power. Then he really started to have his fun.

I knew of his true nature, how cruel, cold and malicious he could be, and that I hadn't bothered me before, as I could keep a firm hand on him like nobody else could; and I hadn't cared then who he could have hurt in his tantrums. But I didn't feel the same regarding this girl; she had opened something in me, brought some deeply hidden tenderness and a fierce sense of protectiveness. And he was so much worse with her; I had chafed at my powerlessness to stop this, at my influence over him which was decreasing as his viciousness was growing... I did what I could to act as a wall between his cruelty and her helpless state, but I couldn't do much; any more and I would become disobedient; he would make me lose my head too, and she would be truly alone.

I had tried to wake up her to the reality around her so she could become more cunning and able to defend herself; but with her innocence and naive nature, she had only managed to pretend and lie badly. I had told her at first that if she wanted to suffer less to give Joffrey what he wanted... But what did Joffrey want? It kept changing every day, depending on his mood; what pleased him one day displeased him on the next one. _So that had been bad advice._ I hadn't wanted to admit to myself or to her that this battle had already been lost; that she could do nothing to keep him from hurting her, because that was what drove him, the pleasure of inflicting pain.

And she treated me like I was her worst enemy, always wanting to escape from me instead of seeing me as I was: her only ally. I had started to feel bad again about my scars; these scars that I had used to scare people were repulsive to the one whom I didn't want to scare. If that were not enough, I scared her too with my surly disposition.

Once, I as I had looked in the mirror while shaving the good side of my face, I had put up a cloth to cover my bad side; how I had wished that my whole face would look like this... While it was a hard and wicked face, _at least it looked normal._ Then I had put the cloth to cover the good side, and I had seen a beastly monster, a demon from the seven hells; an angry eye surrounded by twisted scars, the corner of its mouth burned and mangled and the whole side covered in burned flesh. But still, underneath all my anger and harshness was a yearning to be accepted like I was, scars and all by this girl; I kept persisting in it, and when it didn't happen I got even more furious and stubborn about it.

My loyalties had shifted gradually from my liege to her, and I knew that was bad; how could I go on being his sworn shield thinking like this? Viewing the world through her innocence and pain only emphasised everything which I hated about it; the lies, the hypocrisy, the scrambling for power all covered up by pretty smiles, courtesies and songs.

Lying helpless in my bed, I had discovered something new. The healer had assistants to help him, and there was one, a plump plain girl with a serene face who would tend to me. I remember one time as she had gently wiped my fevered forehead, saying sweet nonsense to comfort me, her compassionate eyes looking down on me. She hadn't seemed afraid by the sight of my face, and her caring had touched me. _I had even thanked her._

Then I had known what was inside of me. I had always scoffed at love, thinking that it was just another pretty word to cover lust and its primitive urges. That's how I had always felt; when wanting a woman, I would visit a brothel, fuck a whore and after having had my release, leaving with no further feeling than of having been satisfied. I never grew any attachments to any of them.

I had felt the lust for Sansa, true, but is was more than that; lust wasn't a constriction in the chest, a caring about the welfare of this girl, the worry; that a smile, a tear or her fear would influence my moods instantly like if I were their puppet; this had taken over me and compelled me to do what had been against my interest and duties; destroying the balance of my once steady life. Even though I had fought and fought it; I was in love, damn me to the seven hells...

I had spoken the truth to little bird when I had said that I would leave again.

I had waited to regain my strength back and to be fully recovered. I had started training again in the early mornings and while at first it had been hard, now I'm back to my old self again, except for that new scar. This time I won't mess it up like on that green night. It won't be impulsive and I won't be drunk. I have already made some moves to prepare the way, planned carefully and it won't be long now.

Some instinct has driven me to ask some insignificant person in the castle to keep watch over her, paying him generously with gold coins, so he can keep track of her when I'm busy with my duties. He looks nondescript enough that he can melt into walls, hardly noticed. The irony of what I've been doing doesn't escape me. Here I am plotting and paying a spy like they do, as if there weren't enough spies in the Keep already. Their ways of doing have rubbed off on me, but I have found her new defiance to be disquieting and need to keep a closer than ever check on her.

My position has so many advantages, the best of them being privy to a lot; the plans, plotting, talks... From all the incessant meeting between the queen, the Imp and their father outside of court, I have a feeling that something big is being planned, and that it's about Sansa's Stark fate; since the breaking of her betrothal to Joffrey, she's a loose end for them. _And still very valuable._ I know that her situation won't remain the same; that the royals will still want to keep her under their power while trying to marry her off to strong allies so they'll still be able to get their hands on her claim to Winterfell. While I have managed to foil Littlefinger's own secret plans – and without his knowing about it, luckily - I know that time is short, and I'll have to make my move soon.

Several days later, after court has adjourned and I'm escorting the King to his quarters, I feel quite bothered by the expression on his face; something seems to have given him great joy and he can't stop showing his glee with malicious smiles. As we reach his chambers and he sprawls on his divan, he's looking at me and fidgeting, like he's trying to come to a decision. The he settles and signal me to close the door.

As I turn my back on him to close the door, I feel my mouth twitching and my unease increasing. When Joffrey is in that kind of mood, it never bodes well for others. Then I come back and I've put on my impassive expression again.

"Come closer dog; I don't want anyone else to hear this."

I stand in front of him, relaxing my body in a pose of nonchalance.

"There's a big surprise for tomorrow; you'll never guess what it is."

"No, I'll never guess", I drawl with disinterest.

"There is going to be a wedding tomorrow. "

I frown in inquiry. "Not yours, I hope?"

"Not mine, not yet. It will go on as planned. This is an unexpected, important one that can't wait. Two kindred souls who have finally found each other. You'll see. Everyone will be shocked, even you!"

"We'll see about that. Is that all?"

"Yes dog, you can go now." Then he starts to giggle hysterically, and it takes all of my will to leave as calmly as possible, and only when I'm out in the hall do I start gnashing my teeth furiously.

No! I've guessed from his hints what they were planning so secretly: a wedding between the Imp and Sansa Stark! What a better way for the royals of having a direct control over the North than this marriage with one of their own! Even if Jaime Lannister had been here, they couldn't have chosen him, as he was of the Kingsguard and forbidden to marry. But the Imp is unmarried and I know that however he feels about it, he'll do his duty as he's bid; if he refuses, his family will strip him of everything; power, money and exile him to the Free Cities, or worse.

_I don't want this little monster's hands on her, despoiling her. _

Seven hells! I never expected something to happen so quickly, but I'm grateful that Joffrey couldn't hold his tongue. _That fucking little pup has been useful for once..._

I'm striding fast to the floor below, and as I descend the stairway, I see my spy coming up to meet me. The mortified and fearful expression on his face tells that something else has gone wrong.

"M'lord", he exclaims as we meet on the stairs. "I cannot find the little lady. Her maid said that she had gone to the godswood, but I didn't find her there. I wandered in the halls. I had men sent to the Gates to check if they had seen something, but nothing unusual happened. She's nowhere to be found!"

I'm so angry that I could howl at the moon if it was up. I'm breathing fast and clenching my fists repeatedly as not to kill the fool on the spot. Was it so hard for him to stand guard? Probably slept on the job or sneaked out to fuck some girl... It would serve no purpose to kill him except create more complications and I need to keep my wits about me. I can't lose time now. I just look at him with the entire wrath that is in me, and he seems to shrink against the wall.

"Never mind. You're released from these duties now, and don't expect me to pay you for today. Consider yourself lucky that I have other things to do which are more important than killing you now, you fucking worm."

He escapes gladly, and I continue my descent to her floor. I knock on her door, and it takes quite a while for me to hear footsteps approaching it. The door is open narrowly, and through the slit I spy the face of her maid, the beautiful Shae.

"Where is she?" I bark without much ado. "The King wants her now."

"I'm sorry, but she has taken ill suddenly; a fever. The healer came and now she's resting quietly."

Then she shuts the door on my face. Nice bit of sass and lying, but I've seen the tension around her eyes, and I know that Sansa Stark is no more sleeping in her bed than I'm doing a merry dance.

_Fuck!_ There goes my careful plan; it seems that this working machine that I had built keeps having parts breaking down rapidly; now another cog has disappeared and it has stopped it to a grinding halt. _But it's no use hitting my head on the wall and moaning against the capricious fates._ _I have to go now._

I descend the stairway once again, this time to my quarters. I take out a big leather bag and hurriedly put clothes in it, three wineskins and my heavy pouch of gold coins. Then I leave and go down the last stairs to the courtyard. I have the strong feeling that she's done it; escaping, and the only way that I can think of is that she's managed to do it with help of this one, Shae. There are three persons who know the secret way out of the dungeons through a tunnel that open up into the kinsgwood. I'm one of them, and this Shae has certainly bribed one or both of the others with sexual favors. Why would she help Sansa Stark? I don't have the time to find the answer to this or question either one of those two who know of the secret passage to confirm this. I dump clothes in one saddlebag and the coin bag into the other, and then lead out Stranger out of his stall and the stables. Then I mount him and urge him to the Gate of the Gods.

The guard looks at me quizzically, as he has heard of nothing warranting an outing outside of the walls.

"Urgent kingsguard business, out of my way!" I shout, advancing on him. He opens the gate fast and keeps close to the wall.

Now I'm entering the Kingswood, and I'm wondering about how I am going to find her in there - if she's still there. It is quite big – and there are tales of people hiding in it who have not been found for years - but there's only a little part of it to cross to reach the Kingsroad. While it would be more prudent for an escapee to keep to the adjoining woods, I figure that she's thought she was safe from any immediate pursuit and wants to be as far away as possible from King's landing before sundown.

I try to go as fast as I can on this difficult ground but it is slow going, and when I reach the thinning trees I let out a big sigh of relief. I hear a distant sound behind me from my right side which is not of the forest and on instinct I come out of the woods and keep myself hidden behind the last trees on my left. Stranger and I stop and become as silent and as immobile as the trees, until I start to hear clear hoof steps and as they're coming closer, I spy a mare with a slight cloaked figure on it, her long hair shining like newly minted copper from the sun's rays. _The little fool, she hasn't hidden her hair!_ My heart starts to pound with excitement.

I keep still as she and the mare reach the road. As soon as they are on it, she urges the mare to a gallop, raising her arm in triumph and letting out great whoops of joy. I find this sight so moving and exhilarating that I still don't move yet, wanting her to have this moment of joy.

The when she has become a speck in the distance, I urge Stranger on and begin my pursuit.


	23. Chapter 23

**CHAPTER 23**

**Sansa**

The fields and trees rush from the corner of my eyes; a blur of colour while the road has opened widely in front of me. The horizon seems to call to me, daring me to go still faster so I can catch it and join it in rejoicing of this new taste of freedom.

Then I start to hear from behind the unmistakeable sound of hoof beats, and from the way they're coming, pounding fast and hard, I know that somebody has glimpsed me and is in pursuit. My heart comes up in my throat, constricting it in terror and consternation. _Oh no! What has happened? Has somebody discovered that I was missing? But it's too fast! It wasn't supposed to happen until morning!_ Is it Shae who has sent someone to kill me? Or is it a stranger who has spied me, a girl alone on the road, fair game?

I urge the mare to go on still faster, but the other rider is coming along side of me now, and I feel suddenly a hard arm snaking around my waist, lifting me off from the saddle and having me land roughly on the other saddle, while I hear mocking laughter and feel the rumbles of it through the chest of the rider who is behind me, grasping me tightly against his body.

I struggle as much as I can, trying to hold and hit the other arm that is holding on to the reins while the horse is slowing down. A harsh voice sounds near my ear.

"Stop that! You'll make the horse rear, and you'll find that it is a long way down from this horse."

_And it is._ I stop reluctantly. Of course, I had recognised who it was from the sound of his laughter and sitting now so high up on that big black horse of this, I can only keep still when he brings Stranger to a stop, while I spy my mare further down the road, having slowed down too. She turns back and trots back in our direction when he whistles sharply near the top of my head.

Then he dismounts, leaving me perched high on his horse while my mare is coming up to him. Before I have time to react, he wrenches off the saddlebags from her and slaps her on the flank, and off she goes trotting back to the Kingswood. I try to dismount quickly, but the stirrup is lower that what I'm used to and I have a hard time reaching it, and I land hard on my feet. In despair, I run in the direction of my retreating mare, calling to her, stumbling and already getting out of breath. In a few long strides, he catches me from behind, his arms encircling my middle and lifting me off while I struggle uselessly. I keep at it until I'm too tired and stop, panting and feeling drained. His arms loosen their hold on me and I land on my feet again, swaying a bit before regaining my balance. I turn around to face him, furious.

"What have you done? Now I've lost my horse!"

Expressionless, he doesn't answer me and walks in the direction of my saddlebags lying on the road. He has heaved them up on his horse's back before I have managed to reach him. I tug on his sleeve hard while he opens them and start to rummage through their contents, although it has no effect.

"You can't go through my things! Stop this!"

"Well, well," he says softly while a smile is tugging at his mouth. "You were well prepared indeed. Even having a little pouch of gold."

He takes it out of the bag and puts it back in his own saddlebag, laughing. The brazenness of this sets my teeth on edge.

"This is mine! You have no right to take it! I won't go back you know, even if you have stripped me of everything."

"You won't go far with nothing. And even though this was a brave thing which you did today, you wouldn't have been able to last long by yourself, in the woods and on the road."

"I don't care! I don't want to go back!" I stop and take a deep breath, looking up pleadingly in dark grey eyes. "Can you not me help get away? Bring back my mare? I'm sure that you could find a good explanation of why you haven't found me. I know that you are the King's dog, but can you not forget it for this day? Please?"

Oh really." He comes closer to me and takes a strand of my hair between his big fingers, playing with it. "It would take something very sweet to make me forget it, pretty bird. You'd have to be nice to me. Come closer and give me a kiss or two, but not like those chaste little pecks you used to give to Joffrey."

I feel my face flushing hotly with rage and humiliation. Has there been anything this man has not spied me doing? I react instinctively and wrench myself back. 'No! Never, I'm not a whore. You forget yourself."

I've raised my head high, wanting to shame him with an expression of haughtiness, but he only gives a short bark of laughter, shaking his head in derision.

"What a child you are. But never mind this. I'm not the King's dog anymore. I left too."

My eyes go round in astonishment. "What? Why?"

His mouth hardens. "Don't you remember what I said the other night? Told you I would leave. _With you this time._ Now, enough speaking. We have to fly. You'll sit behind me, as I want to ride hard until dusk."

"But I don't want to go with you! You made my horse leave, you stole my gold and tricked me into thinking that you were there to return me to the Keep; tricked me into begging you!"

I see him gnashing his teeth and his mouth twitch, just like he does when something upsets him. His grey eyes turn stormy.

"Alright then. You have two choices. Ride with me or walk ahead. I don't fucking care."

I turn back and start to walk in the direction where I was headed at first, spying a crossroad not too far away. Maybe there is a village near: _I'll ask somebody to help me, I'll work in an inn for room and board, whatever it takes. There must be people who are good in this world._

I hear once again hoof beats following me, soon reaching me, cantering at the same pace as my footsteps. I refuse to look at him and seeing him take off with a mocking smile, leaving me there.

"Little bird... Stop being so stubborn. I only made the mare go away because I thought that you would take off and try to escape from me. A girl like you can't be safe by herself, even with a horse and money. Imagine if it had been somebody else than me riding after you?"

That stops me in my tracks, as it was exactly what I had feared when I had heard his horse pursuing me. I hesitate. The horse stops and he dismounts, approaching me carefully as if I were a wild animal. There is something almost soft in his face as he fixes me intently.

"You don't need to prove that you're not a coward. I know that you're brave. But it can't be as you wanted, if you want to survive. Trust me to be a good protector, at least."

I don't know if it is the compliment or fear for my own safety that decides me, but I don't protest as he lifts me up on the saddle, mounting after to sit in front of me, his large back close to my face. He puts my arms around his middle, and as much as I don't feel comfortable holding him, I'm glad of doing it as after a few moments, as his horse is gaining speed and I'm bouncing in the saddle. My gallop with the mare was nothing compared to this speed, and even holding tight to him I'm afraid of falling.

We go on like this for what seems to be hours, only seeing isolated farms and once in a while farmer travelling on his full buggy. When the sun has gotten near the horizon line, we enter through a wood and go slower and deeper in it, until the Hound finds a spot that he likes and then we come to a full stop.

He dismounts first and lifts me off from the saddle. I stumble and sway once on the ground, as I discover I've become bow legged and very sore. I fumble around until I manage to sit down against a tree, while the Hound is chuckling. I'm so tired that for the moment I don't care about his mocking me again, and I think that I must have dozed a bit, as the next time that I open my eyes, he has brought down one of the saddlebags and has started a fire from twigs that he's gathered. He offers me a waterskin and I drink gratefully and thirstily from it, while he's gulping down from what is certainly a wineskin, from the smell. He's sitting across me, with the fire between us.

"Had a good nap?"

Now that I'm awake, the resentment which had evaporated rises up again in me.

"I have noticed that we're not going North."

"True.

"But why? I wanted to go to Riverrun, to join my mother there. I want to go back to my family!"

"It's not possible anymore. Would be a folly to ride through all the fighting that's going on there. Too many persons would want to take you for the fat ransom money they could get through delivering you to Riverrun. And that's where the people at King's Landing would expect you to go, north. So forget this. "

While I would like very much to protest and argue about his decision, I know that he's right. Also, I have another resentment that I had kept hidden in me because I had felt that it was disloyal of me to feel like this but I can't help but feel it. Why have my mother and brother not made any efforts to free me from the Red Keep? They probably were thinking that their war was more important than me. Just thinking about this stirs bitter sorrow in my chest, and I have to push it down again as not to sniff in front of him.

When I have regained my composure, I look up at him, but find only a gleam of some kind of compassion in his eyes. _So he knows_. But I have still a lot of anger to occupy my thoughts yet and keep the tears away.

"I'd like to know how you could have found me so fast, known where I was, that I had escaped."

He snorts. "Easy. When you couldn't be found anywhere, and you're often easy to find, I went to your room and saw Shae, the whore. From the look on her face, I knew that she had helped you escape."

"How do you know that she's a whore?"

He grins at me cockily, making me blush. "Been around whores long enough to sniff one out." Then he frowns in puzzlement. "Though I don't understand why a whore would want to work as a lady's maid. Not so profitable work."

This makes me forget my embarrassment, and I lift up my chin in triumph. "Because it's a ruse, to keep Lord Tywin from knowing that Tyrion has brought his mistress in the castle when he had been forbidden to do it. And she knew about the planned wedding; Tyrion told her. So you don't know everything, Sandor Clegane."

For once, his merriment is true as he bursts into laughter, slapping his thigh; but I'm disappointed that he doesn't seem more impressed by what I have disclosed.

"That's a good one! How fitting. Who else would want to share his bed except a whore?"

I gasp at this, and he scowls at me. "Spare me your false pity. You too couldn't stand the thought of, did you? Made you fly away fast enough."

He's right as usual, and I bite my bottom lip, feeling caught out again by him.

"Now, I understand. And an ambitious whore too, having her claws in a highborn, she won't let go easily. He must be smitten to have told her this, never expecting that she would tell you. She has, hasn't she?"

"Yes," I reply in a sullen tone. "But how would you know about me wanting to escape today? This wedding had been planned in secrecy; nobody knew that it would happen tomorrow, except for the queen, Lord Tywin, Tyrion and Joffrey."

"I'm the King's dog, or was, remember? Joffrey had hinted of it today, couldn't help himself. Wasn't hard to guess of it after, or of how you had managed to disappear, because I too _know_ that there's a secret way out. The whore must have worked her way around since she came to the castle; giving out some favors just in case she needed allies. The only difficulty for me was to find you before you would get in trouble or be snatched by somebody else."

He's looking at me with his smug smile, and I find his arrogance very infuriating, making me feel like some foolish child who can't put a foot before the other one without blundering. Then his smile disappears, and his eyes turn smoldering and darker as they bore on my face.

"If you hadn't made this move, I would have snatched you in the night. I too don't want to see you married to that fucking monster. Although what you did made it much easier for me."

"I certainly didn't do it for you!" I reply indignantly. "I hadn't planned for you being here."

His mouth starts to twitch. He opens the bag, rummaging through it, and removes a hunk of cheese, some smoked sausages and bread.

"Seven hells, the treacherous bitch has packed well. We'll be good for a while. I hadn't time to take some food as I was in too much of a hurry to catch you."

He cuts slices of the cheese and sausages with his dagger, offering them to me, but I shake my head curtly in negation. He sighs in exasperation.

"Sulk all you want, but it's only you who'll be punished, when you go to sleep later with an empty stomach. I'm hearing it growling already."

I sigh too and extend my hand for his offerings. It is true, I'm starving. I hadn't eaten the midday meal, being too upset and with my stomach in knots. We eat in silence, and I find to my surprise that I eat more than usual, and even take sips of the wine, discovering that I like its warmth as it settles on my full stomach. When we're finished, the Hound put the saddlebag away and brings the other ones with the blanket and bedrolls, settling them on the ground away from the fire.

I stir the embers with a stick, making the flames leap and crackle again, and he squats between it and the bedrolls. The light of the flames make shadows play on his face, covering and uncovering the burned side of his face, making the scars appear even more marked. In fact, he's looking downright sinister in the dark setting of the forest.

"I see now that you're able to look at me in the face. That's good."

"I have no choice, don't I, as I won't be able to get rid of you?" I snap back. "I might as well get used to it."

I regret right away having said that, as I spy his mouth twitching again while he's averting his face from mine. I don't know what to say, as I feel that apologising will only make things worse, so I say nothing and just sigh silently.

I have noticed that he has put the bedrolls close to each other, and that makes me very uneasy and scared again. When he tells me in a matter of fact way that it's time to sleep, I stay where I am, my gaze transfixed on the bedrolls, and I see his teeth clenching.

"What are you afraid of? That I'll jump on you? If I wanted to do that, I could do it from any place you would be in a couple of strides." When I don't reply, he continues impatiently: "Don't think that we're alone in these woods. We're not the only ones travelling through them to escape notice, so if a wanderer spots a pretty morsel like you... better for you that I am near. And while you don't feel it because of the fire, the nights are getting cold now."

After digesting this, I say haltingly: "Well, you have leered at me several times in the past... on the Serpentine and in my room. It has made me... uncomfortable." Admitting this has made me very hot in the face, and I lower my head as not to meet his gaze.

"I know. But at least I did it with your clothes on. When Joffrey had Meryn stripped you naked at court, I only looked because I was forced to when I gave you my cloak. I had no joy from it, believe me."

These words finally reassure me, and I'm surprised at them as I didn't expect that kind of answer from him, as if he had understood how mortified I had felt then, how ashamed and vulnerable I had been, and he hadn't rejoiced in it or been uncaring like the others.

I feel so tired, and while I don't feel good in this situation, at least I feel that I have made some peace with the Hound tonight, some kind of truce. Getting up is hard, as all my muscles are cramping, and I lay down gratefully in the bedroll, wrapping myself up in it while he's lowering himself down to his too. I don't have time to wonder about anything else before a deep slumber engulfs me.


	24. Chapter 24

**CHAPTER 24**

**Sandor**

After having long left the Kingsroad, we are now riding on the Roseroad which is taking us south. We will eventually reach Highgarden, then Oldtown. We made good time on the road and only stopped in the forest for the night. I had preferred to make haste and had felt that there was little risk of pursuit in the southern direction. We had stopped briefly at Bitterbrige to buy more food supplies, head kerchiefs to cover her hair and a hooded cloak for me. I wanted for us to look as ordinary as possible on the road, without my burned face and her copper head to linger in people's memories.

At night, she usually fell asleep not long after our supper, exhausted from the day's ride, and we hadn't talked much since the first night. I feared that the grueling pace that we managed to keep was too hard for her, as she was becoming drawn looking; as a delicate lady she wasn't used to this hard travelling.

On the fourth morning, I let her sleep as long as she needs, but even though the sun is high in the sky when she finally gets up, she looks listless, and I know then that there is something more than tiredness bothering her. She hasn't even asked me about our direction and where we are going since the first day; I find that disquieting. She has seemed to lose interest in everything, going along indifferently.

With Stranger tied to a tree at the end of the wood, we walk where I have spied a small river, its banks covered in fragrant wildflowers, bees and butterflies hovering over them lazily. For a moment, an expression of pleasure appears on her face; a ghost of a smile. She has brought supplies for washing, and when she nears the shore, she doesn't even ask me to look away fearfully as I have expected to do. I still do it though, sitting among the flowers with my back turned from the river, hearing her splash in the water and the bees droning. Then I hear slight footsteps behind me; the sounds of clothes being put on again. Without saying anything, she goes to sit against a moss covered tree. I take my turn then, approaching the water and before undressing, I call out in jest:

"Please little bird, don't look!" but I don't hear an answering giggle. As I immerge in the water, I look at her leaning on the tree and her head has turned away, her profile as hard to read at that of a statue.

The water feels wonderful and refreshing on my body and head. It feels good to remove all the sweat and dirt from them. I've borrowed her own delicate soap, wanting to have this lovely fragrance on my skin too to keep me company, like if she were part of me. When I'm done, I walk up the shore and shake myself out like a dog before dressing again in clean garments, bringing everything back with me and dumping it near the tree before sitting beside her against it.

She stays there even though I'm close, and then I look at her intently.

"Something's eating at you, little bird. Out with it; you'll feel better."

She turns her head slowly to look at me, and her eyes have a sullen cast to them.

"Will I? If I speak, you'll only laugh at me again."

"I'll not laugh," I reply firmly.

She gives out a mighty sigh. "It's just that I had thought I would start to feel better after having left King's Landing. I was so excited at first! But now, I feel even worse than when I was there. I keep seeing them, hearing their words, like they are inside of my head now."

"So you thought that by leaving that would you return to how you were before, like if nothing had happened?"

A spark suddenly lights up in her eyes, and she nods eagerly. She feels understood. "Yes, that exactly what I had expected!"

I press my lips together and sigh too. "Too much happened in these years, you can't erase it and go back to the way you were before. Even if you were reunited with your brother and mother, they have changed from their losses and the war, and so have you. Nothing can ever be the same again."

"Oh." She considers this for a moment, her eyes downcast, and then a frown appears as she looks at me again.

"But I feel so dirty now, so soiled! I've learned of all these awful things that people do. And I feel even worse remembering how I was so eager to please them, to be accepted by them. I'm ashamed by what I've done; groveling, betraying, because I was such a coward. I feel that I'm like them."

I laugh drily. "Never worry about that. Had you been devious like them, you wouldn't feel like this. Everybody do things that they don't like to survive. You'll accept it."

Her eyes have grown bigger, drinking in my words as if she wants to believe them. But still her features are contracted, and she starts to pick up nearby flowers and throw them away, pick some again and tearing them apart and I watch this silently, feeling a pain too at this symbol of lost innocence. A tear is sliding down her face; her chin is trembling.

"Do you know what the worst was, at the end? This Shae... When she offered to help me escape, I didn't trust her at first. I asked why she hadn't me killed instead, and she said that it would be too dangerous for Tyrion. She didn't care about killing me, just that it could be inconvenient for them!"

She bursts out in big sobs, wailing, and her blue eyes hold deep pools of long held pain. She covers her face like a child with her hands. I bring her to lean against me, so her face can rest on my chest and I put my arms around her trembling body. Her sobs are wrenching themselves out of her chest now; she cries so hard and so much that she has given me another bath with her tears.

When she has calmed down, I take a hand kerchief from a pocket and wipe her face carefully with it. Then I fold my cloak into quarters and put it on my lap, to cushion her head which I lay down on it. She closes her eyes and I start to stroke the shining copper hair which spills down like silk on the cloak; doing it in rhythmic, soothing movements. When I look down at her, her features have softened in slumber, making her look even more innocent and younger.

I don't regret leaving King's Landing. Even before the Blackwater battle, I had felt that my time there was coming to an end. The queen had started to have one of her men, Osmund Kettleblack, more often at Joffrey's side than I. I understood that the queen was working at building her own alliances and loyalties with men that she hoped would carry out her will, as long as she could do it. Joffrey was still a child and she could order him still to do what she wanted. I was certain that eventually I would be replaced at his side by this Kettleblack, because of my defeat on that green night, and because some people saying that he was younger and faster than I... And where would an aging warrior go when his masters had drained him of everything, throwing him away like an old used vessel?

I 'm glad now that I had decided for us to have a day of rest. It's rare moment of peace for me, just sitting there and letting the time pass leisurely; hearing the leaves rustling from the breeze, inhaling smells both sweet and sharp from nature, feeling the cooler breath from the forest. So soothing is this quiet that I could almost believe having knowing nothing else but this, with this light burden on my lap, the shining hair that I'm keeping a strand of threaded through my fingers.

And as usual, peace is just a fleeting moment, and I feel it end when she stirs and squirms. Her eyes open, and when they look up at me, they fill suddenly with fear. She scrambles up as fast as she can to get away from me, staggering away while facing me. My mood changes too: I feel the old anger rise up, making my eyes smolder at her and my fists clenching.

"What are you scared of now?" My tone is harsh.

Her eyes narrow and her cheeks flush with furor. She's started shaking again.

"You dare ask me that? _You! _I know how you tried to help me at King's Landing, but I paid dearly for it. Because you hurt me. You scared me when I encountered you alone, always angry at me and threatening me. You told me awful things, you mocked me. In spite of that, I still trusted you. On the night of the Blackwater battle, the queen kept saying that we would get either raped by the enemy or that ser Ilyn would kill us to spare us defeat. Fool that I was, I even thought that I could be safe because I believed that you wouldn't let harm come to me, and instead, you were waiting in my room, threatening to kill me if I didn't do what you wanted!"

Anger leaves me as swiftly as it has come. Her gaze is accusing and I hold it, feeling like I have tasted bitter coins in my mouth. I've unclenched my fists and kept as still as I can, as I feel something crucial is weighing on some kind of scale. Then she averts her gaze and sits down again, folding her legs close to her chest and cradling her face on her knees, crying again. This time I make no move, as I'm the last one who can comfort her. Trying to do it would be hypocrite and an insult. _What is done is done, and as much I would wish to, I can't undo it. _

I get up and lean against the tree and wait until she cries herself out, and now this moment stretches to an eternity. When she stops, she gets up and wipes her face with a fold of her skirt; a gesture that I find appealing in its lack of affectation. I must have smiled, as she looks up at me with a chin lifted defiantly. I lift mine too, my mouth pressing into a hard line.

"If you're so scared of me, why did you stroke my face the other night in the godswood?"

"Because I wanted revenge. I wanted you to let down your guard, and then I would have done something bad, so you could hurt as much as I."

"What makes you think that I'm not hurt already?"

She frowns at me, puzzled. She doesn't understand what I mean.

I move away without elaborating, looking for a big branch that can be used as a spear. When I find one, I sit down again and use my dagger to sharpen the point, working carefully, concentrating on my task. Thankfully, she doesn't know yet of the power that she holds over me, this little thing whose copper head doesn't even reach my shoulders. When I had asked for a kiss, I knew that she would say no, being a lady and a maid, and while I had wanted it badly, I was relieved by her refusal. If a mere caress could reduce me to such a melting state, I couldn't bear to imagine what a kiss would to do me.

I get up again and walk to the bank of the river, removing my boots and rolling up my britches. After a moment, she has followed me. Her face is clear now of all tensions and her eyes are filled with curiosity. _Ah, the resilience of youth..._ That makes me glad.

"What are you doing, Sandor?"

_She's called me for the first time by my name... That must be a good sign. _"Fishing. You can come closer and watch, but no talking and moving, as the noise will scare the fish away."

She sits down near the shore, while I waddle in the water. It's very clear, and after a while the fish start to come back again, circling around my legs and nibbling. I've kept the spear clutched in two hands, and when I spy a bigger fish, I point the spear at it and lower it down in a flash. I've hit it and taking the spear out of the water, I remove the fish from it and fling it on the bank very near her, making her startle. Then she giggles in excitement, her gaze admiring. I keep at it until I've caught four, more than enough for both of us.

Coming out of the water, I carry them near the tree and sit down to fillet and prepare them. She's not there anymore, and I think that maybe she went further in the woods to relieve herself. When it takes her longer than expected to come back, I get up to look for her and spy her carrying back something in the iron pot.

When she's close enough, I see mounds of mushrooms and blackberries; how she's smiling proudly when showing them to me. It gives me a lump in the throat. She has gathered driftwood too, and she arranges it and light up a fire.

After a few times of having watched me do it, she has made the fire every night when we stop; knowing my aversion to fire and the why of it. It has been a thoughtful gesture, which of course is very typical of her nature. Spending so much time with her now, I notice all the little attentions that she gives me to make my life easier, and it makes me feel uneasy sometimes at how easy it has been to become accustomed to these.

When the food is ready, we devour it like wild starving beasts, not speaking except for shared glances of satisfaction. The mushrooms and berries have made it very tasty, and we both sigh with relief when it's over. I pat my stomach in content.

"Best meal that I've had for a long time."

"For me too. You know Sandor, I feel like a pig sometimes. I've never eaten so much before."

I give a bark of laughter. "Being in the fresh air and out of your cage will do that to you, little bird."

We sit side by side companionably, just exchanging little things, drinking a bit of wine. She has regained colours and sparkle; spewing out all that bottled poison inside has certainly helped her. When the fire is dying down and the night black, I prepare the bedrolls side by side, and I lay down in mine. She's still sitting up and I wonder is something is still preying on her mind.

"You were wrong about the night getting colder. They're getting milder."

"Because we're going south, that's why. As we go further along, we'll have to buy clothes better suited to a warmer climate."

There's still enough light from the fire to catch a gleam in her eyes. "You're right. Shae had packed my warmest dresses, thinking that we were going north. The fool," she crows in triumph.

We laugh mockingly at this together.

The journey has been uneventful until now, which had surprised and gladdened me. We only have met woods people in the forest and farmers on the road. But as we were approaching Highgarden, I knew that the way would become more crowded with more people and scum to prey on them. I didn't know this area, but I figured that people would be the same as up north, with the common human urges and greed.

In the afternoon, I spy three big lumps of grey barring the road up ahead and I try to slow down Stranger as fast as possible, but we're still very near them when I find that the lumps are bodies of men in armor, lying there in various positions, with eyes opened and glazed. They look dead but something feels wrong and after a moment I know why: there's no blood anywhere on them or on the road. My hackles start to rise, and Sansa feels the mounting tension in my body and tugs at my sleeve, as she can't see behind me.

"What is it, Sandor?"

I speak in a low tone through my clenched teeth. "It's a trap. Stay on the horse!"

I untie the cloak and thrown it on the road as I dismount fast. I just have time to slap Stranger on the flank to hurry him along in the opposite direction as the 'dead' men spring to life, getting back on their feet nimbly and unsheathing their swords, advancing on me with threatening expressions on their dirty faces, lips pulled back to reveal uneven and missing teeth. I unsheathe mine while trying to gauge them; what are they, deserters, pillagers, highwaymen? Whatever they are, they look poor and rough with avarice gleaming in their eyes.

I gaze at them in contempt, laughing mockingly.

"Only three?" I'm sneering. "I'm worth at least five of each of you!"

The first one is easy: retreat, block, feint then getting my blade in him through a vicious undercut. He gurgles and falls flat on his face. The remaining two circle me and grabbing the sword with two hands, I swing it into an arc which catches the neck of the one nearer, slicing through it and making his head fly in a big burst of blood. Unfortunately, the other one has taken advantage of my being occupied and trips me. I fall down on my side and have just the time to get on my back as he pounces on me with his knife, but my dagger is already out and I manage to bury it in the space of vulnerable flesh between the mail and his britches. He cries out and I push him away, finishing by slitting his throat.

I blow out a long breath, sitting up in the middle of the road. I remove my gloves and I whistle through my fingers to bring Stranger back, and moments after I spy him trotting in my direction, his hooves the only sound resonating now in the stillness. As he's coming nearer, I spy her pale face and blue eyes huge with fright. As soon as he has stopped she moves to dismount, and I feel both moved and disquieted at her clumsy attempts to reach a stirrup that is too low for her, scrambling down all the way. The she runs toward me, her copper hair flying behind her and when she reaches me, I put up a hand in warning.

"Don't come nearer! I've blood over me."

She ignores this, getting down on her knees, lifting the hair away from my face, looking worriedly at my arms and legs.

"Are you hurt, my lord? Did they wound you?"

She has a tendency when nervous to revert to her old ways of calling me. But it doesn't annoy me anymore; I find it amusing now. A smile is tugging at the corners of my mouth.

"Your dog is uncut. Don't fret."

As I think of getting up, she moves and sits on my lap, straddling me, making us almost of the same height. She's trembling. She rests her forehead on mine, whispering.

"I was so afraid that they would kill you! I couldn't bear the thought of it!"

An arm has entwined itself around my neck and I feel rooted to the ground. She's stroking my hair and face again, and her mouth pursues and touches mine in a light brushing of lips at first. Then her lips part slightly and as I feel the moist underside of her plushy lips, a tremendous charge shoots through my whole body, making me shake hard. I'm breathless. I grab the back of her head, my fingers threading her soft hair, the other arm holding her body and feeling her small waist. She keeps kissing me, and I hear myself moaning like I'm sobbing; my mouth opens greedily and my tongue pushes at the parting of her lips, and she opens her mouth with a small gasp. I devour and taste her mouth and yet she still responds to this; small hands hold the nape of my neck and grasp my hair.

Then she rests her face against mine, her soft cheek stroking my burned side like a cat. My arms encircle her, holding her tight against me while we both regain our breath back, saying nothing. We stay still like this on this bloody road besides three corpses, both safe and still alive and I have never felt better anywhere else.

_The sweetest thing there could be; I hadn't known this before._


	25. Chapter 25

**CHAPTER 25**

**Sandor**

After the ambush on the road, I decided for us to keep to the woods as much as possible before reaching Highgarden.

When we arrive two days later, it feels unnerving to be part of the noise, crowds and smells of a city after the quiet of the country side and the scents of the woods. Highgarden, while being smaller than King's Landing, has similar architecture, being of a compatible climate; but there are enough differences to it to know that we're in an unknown city. Women's garb is still lighter, with high fitted bodices and full skirts; a lot have on headscarves wrapped around their heads while their long hair flow from underneath it.

I've noticed that since entering the city gates, a dark cloud has crossed Sansa's face and won't leave it. While she's walking besides me docilely enough, she has remained silent and her gaze has been restless, like she was searching for something. I'd told her that we would stop there only long enough to purchase food and lighter garments, and have found the market easily enough. Her mood has awakened in me the vat of anger that is ever lastly present there, and it's starting to simmer and bubble ominously; I think I know the why of it. I stop near the entrance and look down at her.

"You're longing for him, aren't you?"

She startles at the question, a puzzled frown wrinkling her smooth forehead.

"For whom?"

I snort dismissively. "Don't pretend with me girl. You know who I mean. Willas Tyrell, the one you thought you would marry."

"I cannot long for a man I've never met," she replies coolly with a haughty set to the way she holds her head.

"Why the long face then?" I growl.

"It was a dream for me to live here, having a safe life with the Tyrells. Now, because of politics and alliances, it's not possible anymore. I'm leaving all that I've known behind. Please allow me to grieve about it, my lord."

The way that she's stated that, with the dignity and poise of a well bred lady makes me shut up, although I still feel unhappy. To regain my composure, I order her to remain at my side through the visit to the market, and she nods stiffly.

I start with the food supplies, the wine and my garments while leaving her purchases for the last stop. All the stalls here are built of wood, with long sheer white curtains in the entrances swaying in the breeze. We enter one for ladies' garb, and I give her my coin pouch while retreating to the side, where I've parted the curtain a bit to watch the proceedings inside, as I don't like the look of the seller, an older man with grey hair and a gold tooth.

I keep my eye on him as he doesn't stop watching her while she chooses three dresses, in hues of blues and greens, a few coloured headscarves. After her selection has been put on the table, she takes out the pouch from a pocket but he stops her with a hand grasping her wrist. She tenses at this, trying to free herself, but he's holding fast while an oily lecherous stretches his lips.

"Sweetling, what are you doing with such a rough and ugly man? Surely you deserve better. I would be as sweet as a lamb with you, and spoil you like you deserve it."

"Please seller, tell me what I owe you so we can conclude this transaction. I have to go."

"Don't think that by fucking him that you'll gentle him. He looks like a wild beast and will kill you one day."

"Seller, you're forgetting yourself. I'm a lady travelling with her sworn shield. Let me go before something happens."

Now he's tugging at her arm, and I come in the stall, swaggering up to him with a smirk on my face.

"Wise advice. Let the lady go."

Before he has the time to open his mouth again, I unsheathe my dagger and stride to him behind his table, lifting him up by the front of his tunic, letting him dangle a bit while I show him the dagger. Her eyes have gone round with shock.

"Little man, do you see this dagger? Keep a watch on it, as when you don't see it anymore, it'll be buried in your fucking rotten heart. Then?"

He whimpers, and I let him down hard on his feet. While he's profuse now with apologies, I cut him short to ask the price and pay him myself. After I've put the last of the purchases in my big leather bag, I find that he's still trembling. _Good._ As I swing the pouch on my shoulder and turn around, I discover that she's not in the stall anymore.

Emotions strong and hot envelop me swiftly from head to toes. A hard set to my face and heart pounding, I got out the stall, my gaze searching right and left through the passerby's to find her. Then I spy her crossing the entrance to the market and running in the direction of a narrow alley. I growl and start running, and while I'm slowed down by the heaviness of the bag, my strides are long and people are giving me a wide berth. I reach the entrance to the alley in no time, finding her in the middle of it, having stopped and panting. I drop the bag on the cobbled stones and pin her to the wall by grasping her arms. Her blue eyes widen with fright and she's trembling. I too am breathing heavily and take a few moments to regain my regular breathing. Then I lean down my face closer to hers.

"Hound, will you ever stop doing this? It scares me."

"I don't care," I say through clenched teeth. "How do you think I felt when I found you gone? You could have been snatched by any fucking rat. Is this your way of dealing with reality, always running away from it?"

"I thought...I thought that you would kill him and the change that came over you... Like a beast, and you seem to enjoy it... I couldn't stand it."

"Would you have preferred him to have his way with you then?"

She lowers her head and starts sniffing. The madness is upon me again and it reminds me so much of King's Landing that I release her from my grasp and let my arms fall; getting angry with her never worked and I should have learned it by now, but my temper often gets the better of me. I take several deep breaths to cool down the bubbling vat inside.

"Now little bird, I'll make you a deal. I'll give you back your things and some gold. I can even escort you to the Tyrells, as that's what you want, throw yourself at their mercy for all I care. You want to get away from me that bad; you can."

That makes her snap back her neck and look up at me in surprise.

"It's not that, Sandor," she replies haltingly. "It's just that ... you scare me so much some time. Can you be less angry?"

I chuckle drily. "You're asking a lot of me, girl. That's in my nature."

She inclines her head again. Small hands come up tentatively on my chest, fingers playing with the ridges of my armor, then climbing up even more hesitantly to rest on the sides of my neck, stroking the skin there and strands of my air. I gasp. I lower my head and kiss the crown of her head; then my thumb and index finger lift up her chin and the other arm encircles her body, pressing it to mine. I'm surrounded by the scent of her hair and can't resist the lure. I lean down still further until our lips touch and I move mine over hers slowly, as if exploring an unpredictable territory. She kisses me back with that way that she has, with her lips slightly parted, cushiony and moist. As I feel the thrill again, I'm glad that she had never kissed Joffrey this way. As twisted as he was, he was still a boy with awakening desires and would certainly have enjoyed it_._ Her hands move from the sides of my neck and behind on my nape, the feather light touches making me shiver all over. I grunt and feel her mouth opening under mine as I thrust my tongue inside, and yet she responds again... I'm filled with wonder at the sweetness of this. I love the way her tongue strokes and circles mine slowly, enhancing the already unbearable pleasure, making me slow down to savor instead of devouring.

This time it is I who stop, as the sensations of it are getting to be too intense, and I keep looking intently at her, as if searching for an answer to my unnamed anguish.

"Sansa, I can't breathe when you're out of my sight. Don't do this again."

"Sandor," she replies softly after a moment, as if she has read my thoughts. "I won't fly away again; I'm quite resigned to my fate."

This unnerves me more and makes my heart sink. "You make it sound like a death sentence."

She gets flustered at this, resting her forehead against my armor, small fingers moving on my plated chest. When she speaks, her face still hidden, her voice has the tone of the little girl that I find so endearing.

"I'm sorry; I often find it hard to say what I mean with the right words. Please forgive me. So much has changed and I'm still confused. While I'm sometimes still scared by you, I've grown to care about you in a way I can't explain. It's like the boys that I've known, my brothers, my father, some knights that I liked have all been concentrated and merged into you, the man that you are."

We both let out a big sigh at the same time; she for having said these things and I for feeling the constriction in my chest loosening. Then she dares to look up at me with turmoil in her blue eyes and I, the one who is older, just hold her in a way that I hope is reassuring. I whisper against her ear.

"While I'm not a lord like this Willas and can't offer you things like he can, I can give you a life where you'll be safe."

We get back on the road soon afterward. While I know that it's risky, my instinct tells that as far away as we can get for this other city, the better it will be.

We feast on flaky meat pies and fruit this night, side by side in front of the fire. While it's getting milder, we still need the fire for the light it gives us. As we finish and drink wine, leaning against a large tree, she turns her head and looks at me, looking embarrassed.

"You must think me stupid and submissive, my lord, for me not to have asked you where we are going."

I shake my head. "No. It just shows that you trust me."

"Oh. I know that when we arrive a Oldtown, we'll be very near Dorne. Is that the destination?"

I chuckle at her expression of disquiet. "Fuck no. Have no fear of that. I don't want to finish my life in that damn desert, with snakes and scorpions for company. It is said that the sun there is so hot and relentless that people have to travel at night, with veils on their faces to protect them from the sand and winds. And I have a feeling that they too will take part on these wars for the throne. And I've had enough of this."

"Then?"

As I'm not sure how she'll react to this, I take my time before replying."I know a freighter's ship captain. Thoren. We met when I was younger in the Lannister's camps, and we've kept up a friendship for all these years. He'd sent me a raven, not long after the Blackwater battle, to tell me that he would be docking soon in King's Landing. I met him, and one of the best in his crew, Booka, at a winesink in the harbor. I told him of my miscontent at King's Landing, that I wanted a new life. I wasn't well enough to travel then, and we discussed his plans. He was supposed to sail after to Sunspear, and then to Oldtown. If all goes well, we'll meet him there, and sail away on his ship."

Now her eyes have become bewildered and wider.

"Sail to where?"

"To the Summer Isles."

"But... but it's the end of the world! I don't know much of it, except that the people have black skin and are said to be more primitive than us."

"Not so, pretty bird. Booka comes from there, and he's told me a lot that night about his islands. The climate is warm and even all the time, with extinct volcanoes, jungles and waterfalls. The food grows all year long and is plentiful, as for the fish and birds. And there beliefs are very different from ours, more natural and free. They have fewer rules and rejoice in life. And they're not interested in games of throne."

Her expression has changed from worry to wonder as she listened, and a tentative smile touches her mouth.

"This sounds marvellous, almost like paradise. This is not what I had expected you would tell me." Then she giggles shyly." But I have a hard time imagining you there."

It makes me laugh. "I'll try. I'll find something to occupy myself, as I don't think I'll lie down under palm trees all days long. They surely must have fights between them."

This thought sobers me. I know my nature, the warrior inside me that won't rest and will have a hard time with peace, however tired he's right now of endless fighting.

I've lowered my head as I ponder on this, and feel a small hand covering mine. I raise my head to find her gazing at me with shining blue eyes, the way that I had always wished her to look at me. Now that she does it, I feel a tightening in my chest, as I'm apprehensive that I'll do something to extinguish this light, to disappoint her and break this new trust she has in me. I failed so many times before.

I take her hand and lace my big fingers with her slender with ones, stroking them tentatively. I sigh deeply.

"I don't scare you anymore?"

"Just a bit sometimes."

She rests her head on my shoulder while our hands still stay clasped together, and I wonder at all of this. Not what I had planned or expected. But I'm discovering that I love this, the innocent touches, embraces and kisses, feeling like if I were the young man that I had never been, going about with his lady love, instead of the hard youth who had been impatient with the taking of his pleasures and whom whores were the only ones able to bear the sight of his face. But then the fates had not presented him with this gift of a heartbreakingly beautiful young girl who could smile at him and kiss him willingly.

On one night, my dreams make me travel back in time, in bits and pieces like through a fog.

The Blackwater battle happens again, with the smells of fire, blood and my own despair. I find sanctuary in Sansa's Stark bed, get angry when she refuses to look at me and leave with me; she sings and I cry. But I find no knights lurking in the halls and leave the Keep in a daze. Suddenly I'm riding with Arya Stark sitting in front of me, looking sullen and angry. It's raining endlessly. Where the fuck are we, and what is she doing with me? Then I remember having been caught by some group of men, fighting in a dark cave and taking her to her mother for ransom money because I've no gold anymore. We seem to ride on and on, and I find myself gravely wounded, lying against a tree.

Then I find myself striding through the empty and quiet halls of the Red Keep, feeling a strong sense of premonition. Knights are pursuing Sansa Stark and I'm catching her in mid flight, hiding her in my room. We manage to escape through some cunning plan, racing through the night to embark on a cargo ship. Thoren's ship... We cross the Narrow Sea and while being at our first port of call, Volantis, I visit a market with her and manage the day after to get in trouble and slay a lot of men at the bazaar. _Bazaar? What is that? _ We continue on the long journey across the Summer Sea. There are nights of delirious pleasures with Sansa; I'm holding her naked in my arms, in my bed. Then we arrive in Yiti, settling in the city of Yin. I buy a beautiful house by the sea, we live happily until I hear news about Westeros; about how she's lost the rest of her family, and she gets very sick with grief. Fortunately, she gets better and I meet an unusual man at of one of my drinking places, Jaqen H'gard. He has travelled with Arya Stark in their quest to find her sister, and they are reunited again.

I wake up feeling much disoriented, not knowing where I am anymore. I find myself lying down in a forest on a bedroll next to Sansa's Stark while the dawn is breaking. I try to breathe calmly as to regain my wits, and even pinch myself to be assured that I'm awake. I see Stranger tied to a tree and snoozing peacefully on his hooves. I get up carefully as not to disturb her and also to keep me from falling asleep again, lest these mad dreams continue.

I sit leaning against a tree, gazing at the still pond in the forest. While the first dream is getting hazier still in my wakened state, the second remains clear: so vivid and detailed and involving my life. Or lives... The dreams had such a long span, as I had lived every moment of them with smells, sensations, pains, pleasure. I wonder if too much drink has started to rot my brain and is sending me into madness. But I've drunk less in the last months, not feeling a raging thirst like before.

Then I remember somebody telling me that a new fork would open in the path that I was walking on and the memories of the fortune teller and the Lannister feast come back. That feels real... The fork that she spoke of seemed not to have appeared in the first dream, or had I missed it? In the second it had appeared earlier, but with events happening differently. And in this life now, it came much later, but it still came, unlike in the first one, but again with changes in my world. I certainly would have liked to be this Hound who had saved his gold, unlike I who had spent it all on drink, whoring and gambling, because I didn't care about the future or if I lived or died. Had something which I had done or not done affected these different outcomes? Why had I dreamed of this if I had no control over it? Maybe these dreams came to me as a warning for the future. I'll keep that in mind, but for the moment, these questions have started to make my thoughts twist in never ending knots and I shake my head to chase them away.

I hear a rustle of fabric and see her getting up and standing over me with a concerned expression in her still sleepy eyes.

"Is something wrong?"

I smile reassuringly, shaking my head negatively, and she turns a fold of her skirt brushes my face; she walked away to go relieve herself.

I call out: "Be careful though and don't stay away too long."

I can't wait to leave. These woods seem to be imbued with a powerful magic of some kind, and I find it quite disturbing. Magic is not for men, or at least for this Hound.

We seem to have earned another period of peace as the rest of the journey to Oldtown spends itself uneventfully.

We arrive near the middle of the afternoon through yet another sunny day, close to the meeting with Thoren's ship, which is probably already docked in the harbor. But I know that Thoren usually spends more than a day to deliver goods and to buy new ones, so I'll just check later if his ship is in and send a raven to advise him of my arrival on the morrow. For the moment, I have too many things to prepare for the departure; renting a room for the night at a nice inn, selling the horse – unfortunately, I'll not take Stranger with me, not wanting to subject him to the confinement of the hold for the sea journey – and more purchases. I want to make this last day in Westeros special for Sansa.

I leave Sansa at our room at the inn for my errands; I've spied both Thoren and his ship in the harbor, and have told him I would come back next morning. Feeling a wrench, I manage to get a very handsome price for Stranger and let him go to a new master who likes the challenge of a magnificent spirited horse.

When I get back, we got out for a walk through the city and its market. I wish that we could stay longer, as this is the oldest city of Westeros and I appreciate the bravery of the first men who built it, the dangers which it had encountered, the landmarks of thousands and thousands of years. It is also a city for scholars, with the Citadel having made masters for millennia. I tell Sansa of all of this as we walk, and on impulse I take her hand and hold it. She stops and looks up at me in surprise.

"Why are you doing this? Nobody else holds hands while walking."

"So what?"

She smiles shyly. "You're right. Here I am, still seeing things so narrowly. I'm really not an adventurous person."

This time I buy her five dresses at the market, in silk and gauzy fabrics with lavish embroidery on the bodice, sleepwear, sandals and gold earrings. I love pleasing her like this, creating this excitement in her. Throughout our short journey, she has smiled more than in the years in King's Landing.

We take baths in turns at the inn's bath house and eat a nice and spicy meal in its common room. I drink a flagon of red sour wine and she drinks a cup of golden one. I ask her if she has even been at sea and she shakes her head negatively.

"Well, neither have I. I hope that we'll not get seasick."

"Please don't expect the worse, Sandor. The Summer Sea must be warmer and quieter than the Shivering Sea or the Narrow Sea. I'm sure that it doesn't have storms like up north."

I nod, although I don't agree. She resists as usual what she judges to be a darker way of thinking but which is usually just a realistic view on things. She hasn't heard of the southern storms at sea which can happen as the colder winds up north meet the warmer ones here when autumn starts and winter is coming. What would it matter that she knew of them? Nothing could be done to stop it if one erupted. But since she doesn't know of these storms, I prefer to hope that there won't be any while we sail further south and not create in her the apprehension of one. I want to keep her happy as long as possible.

When we finally retire in the room, I lock the door and spread out a blanket on the floor alongside it. When I had asked for an extra blanket, the servant girl had looked at me as if I were mad, the climate being so warm here.

Sansa, who is sitting on the bed, looks at me with a frown.

"What are you doing? Are you sleeping there on the floor?"

I grin. "Yes, I'll be your guard dog for the night. If somebody tries to come in, they'll have to step over me before."

"But... The bed is big enough for two. We slept besides each other in the forest."

I press my lips together. She examines me with puzzled eyes, not understanding the change of mood and the hard expression on my face.

"But Sandor... You'll not be comfortable on the floor."

"Then? Leave me be. Why persist in this?"

"Because I care about your comfort."

This consideration again... What a sweet girl she is. I sigh deeply and move toward the bed. I remove my armor, the weapons and put it all on the floor. She looks down at them with a mischievous smile.

"We could put your sword between us."

This makes me throw back my head and erupt in gales of laughter, making me lose the tension. Ah, that little copper head is still full of songs. I smile down at her.

"What is not said in those songs is how uncomfortable and dangerous it can be to sleep with a sharp blade. One wrong move and you're cut."

"Oh."

"No sword is needed to protect you from me. Except when I'm drunk, as you remember. Then stay the hell away from me."

I say this in a harsh tone, and she gasps. I don't like dredging up these memories again, but what had happened on that green night came from a part of me and I want to protect her from it now. It has sobered her, and I wait from some kind of assent or protest before I make a move to get in the bed. She just puts the covers up to her chin, watching me with big blue eyes. So I slide in next to her.

"Just put your hand on my chest and I'll be as happy as a dog can be."

She turns on her side while I remain on my back. When I feel her hand landing on my chest, I cover it with my own and feel a lump in my throat form, some stinging in my eyes. Then I blow out the candle and drift softly into slumber as I hear her regular breathing lulling me to safety.


	26. Chapter 26

**CHAPTER 26**

**Sandor**

When we leave the inn on the next morning, the weather gives me a feeling of foreboding. It's grey, misty and quite cooler. We have put on our cloaks with the hoods on our heads to protect us against the fine cold drizzling. I carry on my shoulder the bulging and heavy leather bag and hold her hand with my free one. We don't have far to walk as I had chosen an inn close to the harbor.

When we are close to the ship, I take down my hood so Thoren will recognize me and help her ascend the ladder and get on the deck. Thoren is waiting for us as the crew is busy with their preparations for departure. When he spies us, his face is split in a big smile, and he shows us the way to his cabin. I dump the bag gratefully on the floor and we sit down around a small table, warming our hands around cups of hot spiced wine. Sansa looks pale and subdued, and as soon as we have spoken a bit with the captain and told the tale, I get up to show her our cabin on the upper level from the captain's own. When I move to lift up the bag, Thoren signals me.

"Don't bother, dog. I'll have the cabin boy bring it to your cabin."

I grin. "I don't think he'll be able to."

He frowns skeptically and tries to lift it, groaning with effort. He drops it back down.

"By the seven, what do you have in that? A body?"

I chuckle and heave it on my shoulder. I signal to Sansa to stay at the bottom of the stairs while I ascend them, open the door and throw the pouch in. Then I go down the stairs and bring her near the railing so we can watch the shore line receding from our view. I can feel her trembling, and when I lift her face by the chin to gaze in it, I see that she's crying. I lower my head down and touch the tears with the tips of my fingers.

"Don't be afraid. I know that this is one bleak morning to leave, but things will settle."

I kiss the crown of her head and she tried to be brave, smiling through her tears. My words of reassurance have sounded hollow to me, though. Because of love, I have fallen into the trap of empty promises to keep fear at bay. While there are no gusts of wind yet, the rain is starting to fall harder and the sea is getting rougher. Her face has gotten paler yet.

"Sandor," she says in a tremulous tone, "does it bother you if I go lie down for a while? I feel strange."

I escort her to the cabin, staying behind her in case she slips on the wet stairs. There are two doors at the landing, one for each cabin. The cabin is bigger than in my dreams, with no walls separating the chamber from the sitting room part. I show her the side door which leads to our privy. She sits on the bed.

"I have to go talk to the captain, or do you want me to stay with you a bit?"

"No, thank you Sandor; I'll just rest."

I leave with a heavy heart, anticipating what will come. The rough sea is increasing the roll of the ship, making it heave up and down. While I feel like usual, I know that it has already started to affect her by the lack of colour on her face and her pinched mouth.

When I arrive in Thoren's cabin, he greets me with a with s cheerful expression.

"Then?"

I sit down heavily on the bench.

"Not so well I'm afraid. She's shook from leaving, and now with the higher waves, she's already starting to be unwell. This something that I cannot protect her from! Seven fucking hells! I need something to fortify me."

I gulp down half of the wine, sighing through my teeth. Thoren's face has turned sober and he drinks too.

"Not going as well as I would have wanted too. There's a storm coming, as you guessed. That'll make it hard going for a couple of days. Still willing to be my acting first officer? I'll need your help badly, if you don't get sick yourself. Even some sailors can get affected by a bad one."

"I'll do it. I have some experience now on a ship, so you don't need to teach me anything. I'll get on it."

He gives me a puzzled glance. "You never told me this; that you worked on a ship. How could you have been able to, when you have been sworn shield to the Prince for so long?"

"Never mind, it's too long a story for now. Just trust me."

"Another thing. Both of you are not the only passengers on the ship. There are already two of them in the cabin next to yours. They came in last night, and I think that they too want to travel ... discretely. He paid well."

The wind starts to pick up in the afternoon, the rain falling into great sheets of water. Moving around on the slippery deck gets hazardous, as the sea is really churning now. The ship groans mightily, and I try to be everywhere as things are turning chaotic, the men shouting and equipment breaking. I see a wave that is so high that it's dwarfing the ship, and I think that we're done for, but it just gets under the cock and brings us high up in a mighty heave, then we drop down again. And I had thought that fire burning everywhere was hell!

I make my way to our cabin, miserable and wet as a dog. When I don't spy her in it, I get frantic and open the door to the privy, finding her huddled on the floor with her head lowered in the hole. She's retching miserably. I take off my wet clothes and put on dry ones, and go sit on the floor behind her, putting my arms around her trembling body. I hold her hair away from her face as she retches up again, and when she cries piteously after being done, I feel my chest constrict with pain. I lift her up from the floor and carry her to the bed. Rummaging through the leather pouch, I find a night dress; then I bring the bucket with a wet cloth. I unlace her dress and turn my back while she undresses and puts on the nightgown. Laying her down on the bed, I rub the cool cloth over her face, neck and hands. I pull the coverlet over her.

"Sandor... do you think that we'll die?"

I have to ponder for a moment to give her a fair answer. "I'm not sure, but I don't think so. The captain wouldn't have left if he had seen the signs of a bad storm; or else we would have already gone under. Just try to rest."

"I'm not sure if I should stay in the bed. What if I get sick again?"

I show her the bucket and put it on the floor next to her side of the bed and get under the covers myself. I gaze at her. While her chin is trembling, I can see that she's trying hard to be strong, and I put my hand on her forehead and stroke her hair.

"Little bird, I would wish to spare you this and be sick in your place; but could you replace me as the first officer?"

It makes her giggle for a bit, and she turns her head to look at me.

"Thank you for being so kind to me."

I snort dismissively and watch her until I see her slip into slumber, then I fall asleep immediately after, exhausted and aching all over.

On the morning, the storm has calmed down, but the sky is still gray and a light rain is falling. As if there weren't enough water around us, in the ship and soon on me. Before leaving the cabin, I open the window and put a blanket on the floor underneath the window to absorb water if rain comes in. Some fresh air will do her good.

I get as soaking wet as yesterday, and we work hard together on bailing and repairs, and the worst appears to be over.

Except for Sansa... While she had slept soundly – as I woke up the bucket on her side was empty – unfortunately, she resumed being sick as she woke up, and refused throughout the day taking any kind of nourishment. On the next day, as the sky is starting to clear up and show up pieces of blue and the sea becomes calm again, she is still seasick, and I'm feeling at my wits ends. She's getting thinner already and her eyes look huge and haunted in her white face. While she doesn't complain, I can see how miserable and despairing she feels. She won't let me hold her to comfort her, as the evening before when I held her after making her drink some water the nausea had came on soon after and she had been sick on me. While I had said that I didn't fucking care about that, she had felt too ashamed and mortified to let me come near her again.

She often huddles on the bed, her knees drawn up to her chin and rocking. The cabin boy, restored now to good health, has changed the bed linens and has picked up along with it the growing pile of wet and soiled garments to wash it all.

On my midday break in Thoren's cabin, I voice my concerns.

"I don't fucking understand it. On the other ship's crossing, she never got sick."

Thoren is giving me one of his uneasy glances which he's started to give me since my first mention of having been on a ship. While he's seen that I know my way around a ship, he cannot understand how I have acquired it, knowing that this is my first time sailing. And I cannot explain it to him without sounding mad.

He takes a drink from his ale cup. "Seasickness is a mysterious thing, dog. You, who are not a sailor and never felt the call of the sea, have natural sea legs. Some don't suffer from it for years, and suddenly they get it. Some recover from in it on a ship and get their sea legs."

"Seven hells, I'd like that to happen to her." I'm growling.

He chuckles knowingly. "Got it bad, don't you, dog? Never seen you like this before, all in knots over a pretty maid."

I bristle. "So? What is wrong with that?"

He sighs. "Nothing, lad. I'm happy for you that the Gods decided to give you this gift. And a special one who's able to see beyond these scars. Don't worry, nobody dies of seasickness. But do go see Booka. He has some healer's abilities and may be able to help."

I go down the stairs to the hold, and before I'm even near the entrance, I already smell the terrible stench that is floating there like a noxious cloud. In normal times, it's still bad but I can smell that some of the crew got the sickness too. Even I could lose my meal over this. I grimace and try to breathe through my mouth.

Booka is sitting at his table, looking serene and unaffected by this. When he spies me bending to go through the entrance, he gets up and smiles at me knowingly.

"Master Hound, you look like somebody who is badly in need of something strong."

He opens a door to the cupboard behind, taking out a dragon glass vessel with strange marking on it, As soon as I spy it; I put up my hand and growl my refusal.

"No! None of that!"

He burst out laughing in great guffaws and I laugh too. When we sober off, I spy an unusual glint in his eyes, intensity to his gaze, and a pricking on my skin raises goose bumps.

"You remember it too... "I say in a low tone. "This same ship, but on another crossing in the east. The night I got drunk with the rum."

"Yes," he answers simply.

"Did it come to you in a dream?"

"Yes. You killed a crewman when he attacked the lady, liked the music that I played. You disembarked in Yin and I joined you there with the eunuch."

I've become very still while my heart is pounding. "What is it then? How can we dream of lives that we've not truly lived?"

"Some of my people believe that there are opening to other worlds which are the same as this one, with the same people in them; but in each of these worlds, people make different decisions than the ones you would make here. Some changes are small while others big, affecting the length of your life and the nature of your fate. Since it is impossible to go into these worlds, the only way to them comes in dreams."

And then I know finally that I've not been descending into madness. A great sense of relief fills me. With Booka's explanation, these bewildering dreams now make sense, with my memories of the fortune teller's predictions and those of the first dream, where I had seemed to die young.

"And the dreams can serve as warnings, maybe?"

"Or to learn something new; not to repeat the same mistakes."

I reflect on this for a moment. This is strong magic, but not the kind that men can control. My mind has been settled on this, but not on the more urgent matter.

"I didn't come for drink. The little bird is suffering from seasickness. Can it be helped?"

He points to a teapot on the table that I hadn't noticed before.

"This. It's ginger tea. The cook in the galley has scores of containers infused with the root. It may work. Take this one, and have her take very small sips of it. Wait a few minutes; then give her another one. If she keeps it down, it will work."

I nod my head in thanks and bring the teapot to our cabin. She's sitting up in bed, dozing, and when she hears my footsteps, she opens her eyes and looks at me wanly. I pour the hot liquid in a cup and bring it with me, sitting on the side of the bed besides her. As I bring it near, she averts her face, shaking her head and I persist in keeping it close. As she finally inhales the fragrant steam, her eyes widen.

"What is this? It smells wonderful."

"Cure for what ails you. Try it. Small mouthful though. Slowly."

She takes it gingerly between her hands and does as she's bid. After minutes of careful drinking, the cup is empty and she lets out a big sigh of contentment, putting her hand on her stomach.

"That feels good Sandor. My stomach is all warm inside and is settling. Thank you."

A big burp comes out invontarily and she puts her hand on her mouth, blushing. I chuckle and my insides too are calming nicely. I get up to fetch the teapot and as I bend to deposit it on the surface of the nightstand, a white hand lands on my cheek and strokes it. I capture it and kiss it, squeezing it before I let go.

"You'll go on, don't fret. I'll have the cabin boy bring you more tea later. Rest. I have to go."

As I close the door, the sky has cleared completely and the sun is shining. It feels like a good omen. Joy, such an unfamiliar feeling for me, wants to burst out. I smile at the sky. To think that I, who didn't believe in Gods and good fortune, feel hope now, in powers stronger than I who can be merciful sometimes.

When I go back later to the cabin to retire for the night, I find her in a much better state. While she has still not eaten yet, she's managed to wash and change by herself, and some colour has returned to her cheeks. She smiles sweetly at me as I pull the covers and slide between the sheets. I take her head between my hands and kiss it; her hair, her face, her mouth and settle down with her body tucked in mine.

On the next morning, I'm sitting on a barrel on the deck and drinking a cup of wine, looking up at the door to our cabin, wishing that she'll be strong enough to come out for fresh air and sunshine. My gaze slides to the door further left, and while I had wondered at first why I hadn't seen anybody coming out of it once, the storm had made it slip from my mind.

Now I'm wondering again. There's been such an air of mystery about it. Will they come out, or are they seasick too? As if my intent gaze on the door had been calling to it, it opens, and as soon as the man closes it behind him and start his descent on the stairs, I have recognized him already. Jaqen H'gard! It the same man, tall and moving with a lithe grace, his long hair a mix of white and dark red, with large grey eyes, which are paler than mine, sheer as ice. These eyes have found me, and as he walks in my direction, I can see that while being as handsome as before, he looks a bit thinner and pale. I get up and lean on the railing to await his arrival.

While in the dreams of the other life I had felt a certain affinity with him - with both of us being killers - but this time I feel myself bristling instinctively with an unknown hostility toward him. The smile that he gives as he stands in front of me makes me clench my fists.

"Ah, the Hound finally," he says in his suave, soft voice.

"Yes, finally. And you're Jaqen H'gard, formely of the Free City of Lorath, on a quest with Lady Arya Stark to find her long lost sister."

That throws him off. He had certainly not expected that. I experience a malevolent joy at seeing him loose his usual cool, unflappable manner. He retreats abruptly as if I had hit him, a frown marring his smooth forehead. I grin, showing a lot of teeth.

"The man has heard many things about the Hound, but not that he was a seer."

I can feel a surly expression growing on my face.

"Where were you? I've not seen you until now."

He sighs and inclines his head gracefully, almost humbly. "A man was incapacitated in his cabin until of this morning. A man doesn't understand, as he's travelled many times and has not had this sickness before. But the ginger tea cured him, and here he is."

He smiles again, having regained his composure back. Mine is deteriorating still.

"Where is Arya Stark? Was she sick too?"

"No. The girl tended to the man, and is resting now."

"Oh yes, Arya, your soulmate."

An expression of bewildered disdain pinches his features. "What is the Hound speaking of? This is a child, of no interest to a man in this manner."

"Why did you help her then?"

"A man admires this child, feeling affinities with her. A man had given her a coin, in case she needed him again. She travelled to Braavos, and he decided to help her in her search."

"And how did you find me this time?"

He frowns again, and I'm enjoying the power that I have now to fluster him. He doesn't enjoy it, obviously, as this is a man not used to bewilderment; his mouth thins and his eyes become icier.

"A man finds a Hound unhinged. Maybe because of a lady? He must feel out of his depth with her. How can he think that a lady would feel anything but gratitude for a brute of a man who reeks of sweat and wine? This won't last."

Seven hells, he's hit well this time. He's exactly the kind of man that I don't want Sansa to meet: handsome, cultured, and refined – the opposite of me; and more than capable of protecting her. Also, he smells good, like I remember - even his hair gives out wafts of sweet scent. And while I, having been preoccupied on more urgent matters, I had let thoughts of washing be chased from my mind. My teeth are clenching and gnashing.

"These things are no fucking business of yours, faceless man. Then?"

He laughs mockingly at my roughness. "The man and the girl travelled back to Westeros; heard of the disappearance of a valuable hostage at the Red Keep and of a certain sworn shield. A man thought with the Hound having survived so long in this nest of vipers, that he would be clever enough not to use the expected route. The man and the girl followed the southern trail. The Hound, being taller and bigger than most men and with his distinctive scars is easy to remember. There were sightings of him in Highgarden and when there were others in Oldtown, the man knew that he was very near. A man saw him in Oldtown's harbor, speaking with the captain of this ship, and the rest was easy."

By the seven hells, they were following not far from behind us, and I had never known it! And he had been close in Oldtown, and I had never felt him. To think that this man was shadowing me makes my skin crawl. He is the most dangerous man that I've ever met, being more than a match for me, and I don't doubt that he's my adversary now, even though I can't fathom why.

'If your mission was completed, why did you come on the ship? You could have left Arya there and left. Why didn't you? Am I your next target?"

He chuckles. "'No."

Some instinct makes me turn my gaze to the door to our cabin. It opens and then out comes Sansa Stark. She has put on an embroidered green silk dress, with a matching scarf that she has wound on her head in the manner of the desert people, with her copper hair flowing down on her back. She's wearing sandals, and she's descending carefully, her eyes searching below. She looks so beautiful in this garb, reminding me once again of the pretty birds of the Southern Isles. My chest expands and constrict at this sight. I swallow down the lump in my throat, and feel something intense coming off from the man beside me, something that raises my hackles. He has gasped, and I turn my head to look at him.

He's become very still. His gaze is riveted on Sansa, who has paused in the stairs and is still looking for me. His gray eyes have widened and the hunger that has filled them is spreading on his face, making his features appear harder and his mouth fuller, the lips parted. Now I understand why he has stayed on the ship. He hadn't spied only me in Oldwtown.

My eyes narrow and I growl at him, advancing on him. He laughs in an insouciant and careless way. Then her voice calling my name breaks the spell and I turn to look in its direction. She has started to run towards me, and I feel the urge to tell her to slow down, as I'm afraid that she'll trip and fall in these whimsy sandals and in her weakened state. But this is how I love to see her; her sweet, spontaneous and childlike nature manifesting itself freely. I forget everything else except her luminous smile as she reaches us and flings herself on my chest. I lift her up in my arms and laugh, while she hangs on to my shoulders with her hands. _My smell_ doesn't seem to bother her.

"Sandor, it worked! I was hungry and managed to eat bread and fruit, and I feel good now!"

While I lower her down on her feet, I watch the expression on Jaqen's face change; he looks like he's eaten something bitter and his jaw has tensed. _She hasn't even noticed him..._ Then I look at her upturned face and lean my head down until these sweet moist lips touch mine, making my pulse race, and I open my mouth and taste hers while keeping my glowering eyes opened to glare at Jaqen, warning him of my claim, of her belonging to me. His eyes glower back at me, and then I hear another voice, this one belonging to the little she wolf, Arya Stark.

"Sansa! What are you doing, kissing the Hound!"


	27. Chapter 27

**CHAPTER 27**

**Sandor**

I release Sansa from my embrace and she turns around swiftly in the direction of the stairway. A small figure in boy's clothes and short brown hair is going down the stairs rapidly, and Sansa's eyes widen as she recognises her little sister through the unfamiliar garb. She mouths Arya's name silently, the colour draining from her face. Spying Jaquen's suddenly concerned gaze on her, I just have time to grab her around the waist before she falls in a dead faint.

I turn her around and lift her on my shoulder while Arya has reached us and is jumping around me like an excited pup. The crew is staring at us as I stride to the stairway and go up the stairs, closely followed by Arya and Jaqen. I open the door to our cabin and turn around to Jaqen to stay him with my hand. He inclines his head graciously, and I lay down Sansa on the bed with a pillow propped up under her head.

Arya sits at the foot of the bed, looking worriedly at her sister, then turning her head, her face get a stormy expression, and I put up a hand as she opens her mouth.

"Now's not the time to fight with me. Your sister's still weak from the sickness and doesn't need further excitement. If you're not happy at my being here, just complain about it to me afterwards, and shut up about it now."

I point my finger at her to further emphasise my warning. She looks up at me sullenly, and then we hear Sansa coming about, sitting up in bed and gazing at Arya in wonder.

"Arya..." she murmurs. "I'm so happy you're here."

"Little bird, are you alright now?"

"Yes, thank you Sandor." Then she opens her arms to Arya, who crawls up to her and puts her head on Sansa's chest, sobbing softly.

I leave the cabin, finding Jaqen outside lounging nonchalantly against the wall. He smiles when I join him on the landing.

"The Hound would make a good father, authoritative and firm."

My jaw hardens. "Is eavesdropping part of your duties?"

"A man hears everything."

"A man will now go down the stairs, as I wish to have them left in peace."

I go down first and he follows. I choose to in the direction of the bow, where the bench that she and I used to sit on so often is, and where it is more secluded from the crew. I have felt on my back their gazes follow us curiously. Seven hells, this day, which has brought back again the sun and a nice breeze, has also brought a lot of complication in my life. I realise mournfully now that I won't have Sansa only for myself anymore and I wish that our journey to Oldtown had lasted longer. While I'm glad for her that Arya has found her, I remember how difficult my time with the she wolf had been. And both sisters are so different: Sansa, feminine and ladylike while Arya had always been a risk taker and preferred swords over marriage. I know , from some hints that Arya had given me in the other life that their relationship as siblings had never been easy, and I hope that there finding themselves together again won't bring the old discord.

And now him... As he leans against the railing gracefully, I know of which animal he reminds me of; a red viper, elusive and lethal. I lean against the railing too, facing him.

"Don't you have any duties to attend to with your guild?"

He sighs through his nose dismissively. "A man took leave from them to attend to this quest. He can take more time now, as there are others to take his place, as skilled as he is. A man feels that he has made a Hound unhappy with his presence."

He's smiling again in this way which unsettles me; the ambiguity of it making it hard to know if it's mocking or amiable. And I distrust someone who smiles all the time like he does.

My voice turns harsh and menacing. "I've seen the way that you look at her. I warn you: don't try to take her from me. She's mine."

He laughs mockingly at this. "A lady cannot be possessed by the likes of the Hound, either by force or obligation or gratitude. She doesn't belong to him like an object."

"Spare me your hypocrisy. You're a man too. You want the same thing, except you'd do it with more stealth and with your pretty words. And I've not forced her to do anything; she's here willingly."

"But the lady will never willingly open her thighs to the Hound. He must know this."

"And you think that she will do it for you?"

He lifts his chin haughtily, almost disdainfully, but he's not deceiving me with this. I can spy the hard challenge in his gray eyes. I come closer with my own gaze boring at him, my lips thinning, showing some teeth.

"The Hound could get rid of the man," he suggest in a soft low tone. "The man is shorter and much lighter than the Hound. A man would be easy to throw overboard."

I give a bark of laughter. "I doubt it would be that easy."

A narrow and long knife suddenly appears to point at my throat, but my dagger has come out at the same moment, and our blades meet and clash together, the metal grinding with the force of both our grasps on them. Our gray eyes meet above our crossed blades, intent and cold, and we lower and sheathe them back in simultaneously. Jaqen erupts into laughter while I sigh through my teeth.

"It will be a challenging fight. One day." Then he turns around and walks slowly in the direction of his cabin. There's a group of men who are standing still, having watched us with wide eyes and expressions avid for bloodshed. I swagger to them with a snarl on my face.

"Somebody hungry for a fight? I'm warmed up. Let him come then."

They look uneasily at me and then start to break up.

"No? Too bad. Return to your work, you bunch of fucking rats. Enough time has been lost with your gawking."

I spy Booka among them and signal for him to join me. This time, I choose to sit on the bench and invite him to do the same. For once, he's not grinning, as he follows with sober eyes Jaqen's retreating silhouette.

He sighs. "A snake, that man."

I look pointedly at him. "Do you remember him from the other crossing?"

He nods. "Yes, he's like the other time but different somehow, more threatening."

"Because in the other life, he was attached to Arya Stark in a different manner; now he's smitten with her sister. That's why he's on the ship now, he saw her in Oldtown."

Booka shakes his head with a gravity which only confirms my own misgivings; for this good natured and insouciant man to react this way is indicative of a serious matter indeed. We stay like this for a few minutes, each of us reflecting; then an idea comes up in my mind, giving me some fresh hope.

"I think I've found out the usefulness of these dreams now. While the eunuch is not there with us, I remember all of his teachings. I would like us to start practicing them and train early every morning, before our duties start."

Now Booka is beaming, and offers me a large grin. "I would like that too, master Hound. And maybe we'll master them faster, after having learned of them before!"

I hadn't thought of that. Clever Booka, a man of many talents and surprising facets.

**Sansa**

Arya is lying down on the bed across from me. I'm holding her head and upper body in my arms, which are resting against my chest. She's sobbing hard and me tears are flowing freely too on my face; but mine are tears our joy and relief. A gaping hole has been filled inside of me; my little sister, so boyish, whom I had found insufferable with her lack of regard of all things ladylike and so annoying in her fits of temper, is back again in my life. And only now do I feel our bond and how much I cherish her, regardless of our differences. She's found me again... I cry gratefully.

After a while, our tears dry, and Arya shifts and lays her head down on my lap, I can see that there was more to her tears than joy. Her big eyes are full of torment as they gaze into mine, and finally it's too much for her and she averts them, hiding her face against my belly.

"Sansa... how can you look at me like this?" she asks, her voice muffled.

"What do you mean sweetling? I'm so happy to see you!"

"If you knew what I have done, while we were separated... You didn't like me before; now you'll hate me."

These words hurt, because they are partly true. I sigh and start to stroke her hair gently.

"I was young then, rigid and prim. I thought I knew how life should happen and how people should behave, like in the songs. But life at court taught me different."

Then I tell her what had happened after our father was executed; the lies, the constant beatings, the contempt from everybody, and I trying to hang on to my romantic vision of the world. I told her about how the Hound had tried to help me, and about the escape.

"He had said on the night of the Blackwater battle that he wanted to keep me safe, and that he would kill anybody who would try to hurt me again. He wanted me to leave with him but I refused. When I escaped later he caught up to me on the road. I didn't want him at first to travel with me, he scared me so much, but what choice did I have? There were no gallant knights to save me like I had dreamed of. Then I grew used to him and started to appreciate him."

She turns her head at this and gazes at me, the turmoil and shock evident in her face.

"But Sansa, you were kissing him! How you, a lady, could stand to do that?"

I smile gently at her, thinking that I too would have been shocked at this only a few months ago.

"I'm not the same as I was before. I like it. I've flowered, and am growing into a woman. These urges are normal."

"But with him!" She still looks mutinous. "He's a bad man and he's ugly with his burned face. From where I stood, I saw only the scarred half of his face, and he looked like a monster that was devouring you!"

"I couldn't bear to look at his face for a long time, but now it's changed."

"I'll never do it, kiss a man and all that, even if he is handsome!" She pauses and lowers her voice. "Has he forced you to... to do more?"

"No. He has treated me well. Try to see him differently. He's more than just a killer and a warrior, more than what you'd seen of him at King's landing. He even bought me a lot of beautiful gowns!"

She snorts at this, but I can see the smile lurking at the corners of her mouth. "That would get to you, wouldn't it? Gowns! The way to your heart!"

We share a mischievous glance and laugh together like little girls with a secret. It feels so good to still be able to do this. Arya sits up and moves besides me, resting her back against the head of the bed. Her head is bowed, and I see her fingers fretting together while her chin has started to quiver. I know that she's afraid to tell me what has happened since we last saw each other. I decide to help her start with something easier.

"Please tell me about the man who brought you here. Who is he?"

She tells me that he was a prisoner of the night guard to be brought to the Wall to serve as a black brother, along with two others. Yoren, a black brother, had spotted her in the crowd on the day of our father's execution; he had spared her from the sight of his head been cut off. Then he had brought her with him, cut off her hair and had her disguised as a boy. They were supposed to travel to the Wall to our half brother Jon, but were attacked by the Brave Companions and brought as prisoners to Harrenhal. Arya had saved the life of the prisoners and Jaqen H'gard had killed two men of her choosing, in exchange for having saved his life and those of the other two. She has tricked him into helping her and her friends escape from Harrenhal. Then they had been captured again by another faction, The Free Men without Banners. They had promised her to be delivered to our mother at Riverrun, but it hadn't happened and she had fled to the Saltpans, buying her passage with the coin which Jaqen had given her, and found him in Braavos.

"But that's not the worst," she says hotly. I killed a boy and men with Needle, and I was glad of it. I'm full of hate."

But her eyes are full of untold pain. This tale has shocked me, and I can't help but to start to cry again. She gets agitated at this, bouncing on the bed with her hands clenching into fists.

"I knew that you couldn't take it, I knew it!" The rawness of her voice pains me still. I try to stop sniffling and regain my composure, so she can understand.

"It's not that dearest. I'm just so sad that you were so alone, so much in danger that you had to kill to survive. Thanks the gods that you were able to defend yourself. And you being even younger than I... Look at me now."

She looks at me with incredulity and bewilderment in her face, not having expected this response. Then anger leaves her and she starts to cry again. I take her trembling body in my arms once again and rock her gently.

A lot of things are becoming clearer to me now. Having spent so much time with the Hound is helping me now understand her; seeing him in her. She's like a reflection of how he must have been at her age, how he grew up to become so bitter and angry. Maybe there's a chance for her to heal since she's still so young yet; she has me now again, and the Hound to protect us both, a chance at a new life. And I understand too why she and Sandor are at odds: they so alike, both in experiences and temperament.

I'm so happy though that at the end, she had managed to attract a protector; this tall slender man whom I had only a glimpse of on the deck. I think that I'll have to speak to him sometime to thank him for what he's done for Arya.

We're both so spent that we fall asleep together like this on my bed, and we must have slept for a long time, as when s sound of heavy footsteps wake me, dusk has fallen, and I look up to see Sandor gazing at us through hooded eyes. Arya wakes up too, and upon spying him, disentangles herself from me and jumps off the bed and scoots out before I have any chance to react. Bewildered, I look at the closed door and then at Sandor, whose expression has turned surly, which makes me feel more flustered.

I sit on the side of the bed and remove the scarf. Then trying to put order to my disheveled state helps me buy time and avoid his gaze which I'm sure is stormy. It has been a while since I've felt like this about him, but I feel too vulnerable now to face one of his darker moods. I feel the side of the bed sink from his weight as he sits down, and I get up to smooth the folds of my gown. Then I hear his exasperated sigh.

"Sansa, stop this and look at me."

I don't feel like doing it but I gather my courage and look down on him. I'm surprised to find a blend of different emotions on his face; a hard set to his mouth and jaws, yes, but a soft look to his eyes. How can he manage that?

"Did it go well with your sister?" His tone of voice is neutral.

"Quite well actually. We cried a lot and told each other everything. We even laughed."

Seeing my smile of joy and excitement softens a bit the set to this mouth and I stand before him, fitting myself between his spread legs and putting my hands on his shoulders.

"Please Sandor... Try to be understanding about Arya; try to be more patient and gentle."

His shoulders tense under my hands and I still keep them there, even though his face turns surly again and he growls.

"You ask this of me, knowing me as you do? Fucking hell. It's her who hates me and cannot stand me, not I."

I knead his shoulders gently, touch strands of his lank black hair and he lets out a big sigh as he puts his arms around my waist and crushes me, taking the breath out of me. I feel his hot breath on my stomach.

"I'll try it little bird, for you. What is most important to me now is that you've regained your health. I couldn't stand to see you suffer like this."

I squirm under the hard embrace and he loosens his arms, letting me go. I escape to the sitting room without looking back. It's in moments like these that I question myself about my motivations in touching him and getting this close. While I know that in part it's to soften him – and it works - that it is also an expression of my affectionate nature; it's the other part, which is murkier that I wonder about. It's like I'm playing, feeling a thrill at how keenly he reacts to my touch, feeling excited by these contacts, and then getting scared when he reacts too intensely, like the little girl that I still am.

"The captain has asked us to share supper with him in his cabin. Do you feel well enough to go?"

I'm excited about it, knowing that it's an honour to be guests at the captain's table, and the first meal that I'll have since having started the crossing. I can see that Sandor is not; probably as Arya and Jaqen will be there.

And as we are sitting all together around the table, I can understand his misgivings. We form such a disparate lot, and I feel a lot of tension at the table, between Arya and Sandor, and then Sandor again and Jaqen H'gard. Of this I don't understand, as they just have met today.

Although the good natured captain tries to lighten the atmosphere, it doesn't happen; there is a lot that cannot be spoken of between us, and we end up in two camps: Sandor who's sitting next to me, speaks with the captain, while I divide my attention between Arya on my right and Jaqen in front of me.

This is a most fascinating and enigmatic man, and I marvel at how handsome he is. His hair colouring is unusual, and he has told me that it's typical for the inhabitants of Lorath, one of the Free Cities. Even if he smiles a lot, I sense that he is as unsociable as Sandor, feeling how guarded he is. I am enchanted with his strange way of speaking, although his cultured accent and voice intimidate me; it doesn't take me long to feel as awkward and foolish like I did at King's Landing. I don't know what to say, and I have lost my skills at artificial chatter a long time ago. What does one say to a Faceless Man? Thankfully, Arya pipes in often, reminiscing about their travels, and he completes some tales with her. As I watch their interactions together, I sense that she trusts this man and is fond of him. _He must be a good man then._ She seems more animated and at ease since our talk of the afternoon.

As we leave after the meal, I end up being alone with Jaqen outside the door, and I take a deep breath to fortify myself.

"Jaqen..." It feels so strange to call a stranger by his given name, but I can't give him a title that he doesn't have. "I wanted to thank you for bringing Arya to me, and for having protected her. "

He inclines his head graciously for a moment, and when he raises it again, I find it hard to meet his gaze, the eyes pale gray and large, with an unfathomable glint in them.

"A man is honored to have been asked and to have met Lady Stark."

I nod slightly and feel the heat on my cheeks as he keeps his gaze unwavering on me. I turn around to see if Sandor and Arya are coming out, getting more and more flustered by the second. If at least he would say something... Trying to be courteous, I return my gaze to him, finding the ghost of a smile playing on his lips.

"A lady has fear of a man. It doesn't need to be so."

I feel mortified by his words. As usual, I haven't been able to hide my feelings. I know that this day has overwhelmed me and I feel vulnerable and defenceless from it, unable to take on more. Then, without saying anything, I flee from his presence and ascend the stairs as fast as possible, hearing him chuckle. I feel immense relief as I close the door to our cabin behind me, leaning on it and catching my breath.

I rummage through the chest to find a nightdress and bring it with me to the privy. Finding as usual a bucket of water there and clean cloths, I dip one in the water and put it on my face to cool it down. I dip a cup in it and drink slowly of the cool, luscious water. It feels so good to be able to so without feeling that dreadful sickness! I change into my nightdress and leave the pile of clothes outside the door, where the cabin boy will fetch them in the morning.

I just have time to get into the bed before I hear the door opening and spy Sandor tall silhouette coming in. It has startled me for no reason that I can fathom and I feel my cheeks flushing once again as he looks at me with a scowl, making me shrink against the headboard. His gaze circles the room suspiciously, as he was looking for something, and when he doesn't find it, he snorts.

"Where were you?"

"Well... here my lord." The sound of my tremulous voice angers me somehow, as I have nothing to be guilty of, so I raise my chin defiantly. "What about you? You took a long time coming out of the captain's cabin."

"Trying to make peace with you sister, as you asked. Didn't work. Stubborn as a mule she is."

Like you, I'd like to add, but I remain wisely silent. He's come near the bed and is removing his boots and tunic. As usual, I can't help but marvel at the breadth of his shoulders and his hard muscled chest and middle, brown and covered by black hair, his knotted big arms. With his face averted from mine, he asks in a deceptively soft tone of voice: "Did you speak long with the Lorathi?"

"Actually no. I just felt it needed to give him my thanks for keeping Arya safe. I feel somewhat ... uneasy around him, not comfortable at all."

The he turns his face toward mine and smirks at me.

"Good."

"What?" I'm indignant. "You think it's good that I feel uncomfortable with him? Why?"

He glowers at me and doesn't reply; just getting into the bed and turning his back on me, soon starting to snore. _How could he?_ I gaze at his big indifferent back in silent fury, wanting to strike him. His dismissal of me has hurt me. I think of Arya, of she never wanting to be with a man and marry, and I couldn't agree more with her at the moment; it's a trial enough having to endure the foul moods of this one. _No wonder I'm manipulative with him... _

Then I shoot a resentful glance at him, speaking silently to myself, in the space in my head where I can have permission to say anything that I want. It will take a very long time before I kiss you again, you beast... you _damned_ dog. Then I blow on the candle and try to sleep as peacefully as him.


End file.
